Convergence
by maej26
Summary: A Mizley love story. Begins in the summer of 2010 when the two are paired together for NXT. All chapters have been posted.
1. The Hook

**Title:** Convergence  
**Pairing:** Mike Mizanin (The Miz) and Alex Riley (Kevin Kiley, Jr.)  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** A hyperrealistic vision of what Mike and Alex experienced behind the scenes. Begins in the summer of 2010 when the two are paired together for NXT. New chapters posted on Sundays, Tuesdays & Thursdays.

_Update (10/29/13):_ Full story posted.

**Warning:** Just so it's clear, this is a love story between two men.

**Started:** 07/22/12  
**Finished:** 08/10/13

**Disclaimer:** Though this story is fictitious, parts of it are inspired by real life events, WWE storyline (only those directly pertaining to The Miz and Alex Riley from the time period of May 2010-April 2012), real life people and if applicable, their WWE counterparts. I own nothing but the fictitious aspects of the labor of love that is _Convergence_ along with the order in which the words are arranged (unless it's dialogue used from the show, etc.). I mean no disrespect to the real Mike and Alex. It's not their fault they have so much chemistry and created such a beautiful template for a love story. No disrespect to any other real life person portrayed in this story, such as (but not limited to) superstars and friends & family members of superstars. This is purely meant for entertainment purposes.

**A/N (1):** Words will never be able to express how much I love Mizley, but that didn't stop me from writing 100,000 of them.

**A/N (2):** Two years ago today, I finished my first Mizley fanfic, it was actually the first story I ever wrote (and I'm sure that was quite obvious lol). So with that in mind, I thought it only fitting to post the first chapter of this behemoth today in honor of the story that started it all.

**A/N (3):** I can't believe I'm finally posting this! This was one of the most difficult and draining things I've ever done, but worth every second. I really hope this is as fulfilling to read as it was to write.

* * *

PART I

01. The Hook

A fight could break out at any second. It's in the air. It's palpable, predictable. A discussion turns into an argument and then someone decides to throw a punch. A fist connects with a jaw and suddenly it's a full on brawl.

That's the scene thousands in attendance have grown to expect when two men confront each other in the center of a wrestling ring.

Perched in a chair, atop a stage in a packed arena, Mike watches as a similar situation begins to unravel. One of the men has brought bodyguards to the ring with him, so a fight isn't just expected, it's a guarantee. Mike balls up his fist, knuckles white. He has more invested in what's going down than even those physically involved.

It all started a couple months ago when he was asked to be a mentor on WWE's newest competition show called NXT. The televised program would pull wrestlers from the obscurity of the developmental stage up to the next level. It was about exposure, giving them a chance to test their skills, to break out of the box. In short, it would be a giant sieve. Those who succeed would be slated to move on - to be incorporated into the active roster - and those who fail would either be released or sent back to the training facility in Florida. NXT would be the last stop in a massive assembly line meant to churn out new product, and the product Mike was assigned to was a young upstart named Daniel Bryan.

Mike was hesitant to sign onto the project at first, mainly because he's spent the better part of his twenties trying to escape association with reality television. His ardent critics have argued that the only reason he was hired by the world's premier wrestling enterprise in the first place, was in large part due to his affiliation with a popular reality show he appeared on in college. Almost a decade later, that particular stigma still follows him around. It certainly doesn't help matters to still be receiving television offers on a regular basis, NXT only being the latest in a long string. However, since it's in-house and he has a constant need to get his name on the lips of every man, woman and child on the planet, it was hard for him to refuse.

Much to Mike's chagrin, personalities clashed the minute mentor met rookie. But given that he'd already heard about Bryan through locker room chatter, Mike already expected it was going to be an uphill battle, and he was more than ready for the challenge. He welcomes anything the company wants to throw at him because ever since he was a kid, all he's dreamt about is being a wrestler - a sports entertainer as they're more commonly referred to these days. And for the past six years he's been working to make that dream a lasting reality, tirelessly climbing the rickety scaffolds on the most competitive and volatile stage the world of professional wrestling has to offer.

It took time, dedication and determination, but over the years he's carved out a spot, made an impression; he's made a good life for himself. Though he's yet to reach his ultimate goal of becoming the WWE Champion, he's proud of everything he's achieved, and everything he has. All of it from the prestige of multiple title reigns, to the impressive two story condo he rents in L.A., right down to the growing collection of custom made suits hanging in his closet.

Needless to say, when someone like Daniel Bryan is sent his way, and flat out refuses to accept advice on every aspect of the craft Mike adores, he gets angry. Luckily for Mike though, he has an outlet for that anger. The audience might not respond in a way he wishes they would, not even tonight in his hometown of Cleveland, but that's the way it's supposed to be. He's a bad guy on the show – a heel – he's _The Miz_.

So, when The Miz leans forward in his chair, peering down on an escalating argument; when The Miz clenches his fist so tight it causes his knuckles to turn white, people take notice. They know he's not going to sit idly by for long.

As if on cue, Daniel Bryan drops his mic to the mat and takes a swing at the prominent announcer he'd been excoriating. Mike watches with gritted teeth as Daniel narrowly escapes the bodyguards, whose only collective job was to hold him back. The already eliminated contestant jumps out of the ring, attacking the aggrieved announcer again. Finally, he's pulled away and escorted up the ramp.

Mike jumps out of his chair and walks over to the guy with authority. Accosts him in an eerily reminiscent manner. "Get out of here! You don't deserve to be here!" He has plenty more to say, but his mouth is suddenly silenced with a powerful right hook. Mike is enraged and attacks his former rookie.

Two of the bodyguards pull Mike off of his aggressor, but they can't compete with the rush of adrenaline coursing through Mike's veins. Luckily, the other two are able to wrangle Daniel in just long enough to drag him backstage.

After the show, Mike's approached by one of the producers. "Vince wants to see you in his office."

Mike rolls his eyes, can't believe he's going to be reprimanded for defending himself. He makes his way through the maze of hallways and thinks he's finally found his boss' office. All he can do is knock to find out for sure, so that's what he does.

"Come in!"

Yep, Mike would know that gravely voice anywhere. He takes a deep breath, then opens the door and steps inside. Looks around at the latest setup. It's so different from the last time he was in Vince's office, but that's to be expected. It changes with every city they perform in.

"That was perfect!"

"Excuse me?"

"You and Bryan out there. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist butting in at some point."

Mike furrows his brow. "Wait, you knew he was gonna hit me?"

"Of course. Whose idea did you think it was? All you've done these last few months is complain about the kid needing personality, and you were right, so I gave him one."

"He attacked me out there!" Mike shouts, holding his still aching jaw with one hand and furiously pointing to the door with the other.

"That's right! It's called ratings, Mizanin!"

"I'm all for ratings, sir, but you basically threw me under the bus. And now I'm helping push someone over who's been a thorn in my side? No way. Since day one, he's been nothing but disrespectful and-"

"And to make it up to you, I promise next time'll be different. You'll have no problems with your next rookie, I assure you. You want charisma? Well, this kid's got it in spades."

Mike shakes his head. With the year already half way through, he's been knocked off course long enough. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't allow anyone to rope him into NXT for another three months. He has to get back on track. He has to start working towards becoming WWE Champion; no more unnecessary pit stops.

However, if he thinks about it strategically, dissention isn't exactly the way to get to the top; it's how people find themselves in the crosshairs of the most powerful man in the industry, or worse, how they get themselves fired and he's heard the rumors, seen the proof. But principle, it's a matter of principle. "I'm honored, but I just don't think-"

"Listen," Vince says, cutting Mike off, "you're the only pro from season one that we want back and the kid we have lined up for you is top of the line. He's a much better match for you."

"It's just that-"

"His name is Kevin Kiley. He goes by Alex Riley in the ring. Maybe you've heard of him. He's been making a big splash down in Florida. He's got unlimited potential and a personality that I think will…" Vince pauses for a moment as he searches for just the right words, "…compliment you. I can see you coming out on the other side shining even brighter than you do now."

Mike contorts his mouth, not doing a very good job at masking his agitation. Can't tell if Vince is hinting at something or just trying to twist his arm. Either way, his gut tells him he really doesn't have a choice in the matter. If he's completely honest, it's somewhat of an ego boost to have been the only one they've asked back…or maybe the others were asked too, but they were smart enough to say no. Mike wonders about the possibility. But that's neither here nor there.

After a long moment of silent consideration, Mike gives in. Best to toe the line this time. "I guess I can do one more season."

Vince enthusiastically grabs onto Mike with a _slap_, sandwiches his reliable employee's stinging hand with his free one, shaking firmly. "You won't regret this."

All Mike can do is force a smile and hope the man is right.


	2. Meet and Greet

02. Meet and Greet

A man with greasy, shoulder length hair approaches Mike at the meet and greet for the new season of NXT.

"Hi, I'm-"

Mike finds himself tensing up as the man extends his hand to him. No. No, this can't be Alex. Don't be Alex. Mike winces as the man steps closer.

"I'm Lucky Cannon." The scraggly man introduces himself as he walks just past Mike to another wrestler who's standing to his left.

Mike rolls his eyes and sighs with relief. Chuckles as he internally mocks the man's name; feels like he's the lucky one for dodging that train wreck. Turning serious, he realizes it probably would have been smart to do his homework on Alex Riley, or at the very least, read the packet they gave him on the guy, but his girlfriend, Maryse, had him up all night complaining about her own position in the company.

Just then the door opens and a tall, tanned, well-built man roughly the same age as Mike, walks into the room. Mike perks up, finds himself hoping, wishing, _praying_, that this is his new rookie. He doesn't realize that he's staring, completely mesmerized by the presence of confidence personified. Simple as jeans and a button down shirt and _so fucking cool_. Mike tries so hard to pull off what this man does just by existing. And normally, he'd be boiling with jealously, but right now he just stands in awe.

Suddenly, the attractive man's attention locks firmly onto Mike, even with people walking in between them. Mike knows this must be Alex and for a moment he wonders how the guy would know what he looks like since they've never met before and as soon as the thought enters his mind, he's bashing his head against the proverbial wall. Can't believe he's capable of being that stupid and hopes he doesn't embarrass himself when he goes to speak, though with his natural propensity to fumble his words, he definitely won't be surprised if he does.

As he strides over to Mike, Alex flashes a killer smile that beams across the room.

The energy rushing towards Mike has the oddest effect on him, one that he's never felt before, but he ignores the tight pinch in his chest. Passes it off as indigestion from the hors d'oeuvres he's been munching on.

"Hi, I'm-"

Mike nods. "Alex." This time he's more than happy to interrupt the greeting.

Alex laughs. "That would be me."

"Or should I call you Kevin?"

"Alex is fine," he replies, reaching out to shake Mike's hand.

Mike shakes Alex's hand enthusiastically. "I'm Mike," the superstar says, smiling as he gazes into deep blue eyes. "Well, Miz. But you can call me Mike if you want…or Miz."

Alex laughs again as Mike pulls away.

A _thump_ echoes throughout the room. Matt Striker, the host of NXT, is standing at a small podium tapping on the microphone. Alex turns to face the speaker immediately while it takes Mike a few extra seconds to divert his attention from his new rookie.

"Thank you all for being here this afternoon," Matt says, beginning the orientation. "Pros, I trust that you've all have had time to meet your rookies by now."

Mike turns to look at Alex once again and grins. Excited that he actually has a legitimate chance of winning this time around.

"So, this season we're gonna be doing things somewhat differently…" Matt's voice trails off. It's not that he's _not_ talking because he certainly is, but all Mike can hear are his own thoughts as he unintentionally lingers at Alex longer than he should. He hasn't even seen the guy wrestle yet, but he can already tell that the man's the complete opposite of his last rookie. This one's got a world of confidence, the ever essential charisma that can't be faked or learned, and the body of a quarterback, and if Mike had read his packet, he'd already know that's because Alex played the game in college.

Mike's doubts about his new commitment wash away and he finds himself anxious to get the show started.


	3. Cocky

03. Cocky

There's a pep in Mike's step as he's strutting down the hall towards the locker room, bragging about his latest win to anyone who crosses his path. Currently his latest victim is his former tag team partner, John Morrison. "I told you I'd hold the United States Championship again," he boasts, thrusting his newly won title in the man's face, the silver reflecting in the superstar's trademark sunglasses. "I told you! Next stop, Money in the Bank and after that I'm goin' all the way to the main event of Wrestlemania, mark my words."

Mike cackles egotistically as the two barge into the locker room.

"You're dreamin', Miz," Morrison says, dismissing Mike's proclamations.

"Dreamin' big, baby! It's the only way I-" Mike stops mid-sentence, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his sights land on his rookie, stares at the large tattoo covering his upper back.

"Well, would you look at that. Miz finally stopped shootin' his mouth off. That's gotta be a first."

Mike scowls, shoving Morrison as hard as he can and then walks towards Alex. "Long time no see, buddy."

Alex turns around. "Hey, man. Congratulations!" He shakes Mike's hand, pulls him into a hug.

"Isn't it beautiful?" The champ holds up his polished title so Alex can get a look, even hands it over to him to let him hold it - a very rare gesture on Mike's part, especially considering he's only known the guy a few weeks. "I was just tellin' Morrison over there…" He shouts, deliberately raising his voice, ensuring that John and the whole locker room can hear him. "That next, I'm goin' after that shiny, red briefcase hanging high above the ring. After I knock out all those losers, I'm gonna climb that ladder and become Mr. Money in the Bank, which by the way, for all of you who aren't paying attention, basically guarantees that I, The Miz, the most must-see superstar of all time, will be WWE Champion and after I win…" Mike closes his eyes, beaming as he raises his chin high. "I'm going straight to the main event of the grandest stage of them all, Wrestlemania twenty-seven."

"It'll never happen, Miz!"

Mike glares at John from across the locker room, but his attention is quickly diverted.

"Shut up!" Alex points to John with a dramatic lunge, scolding him for insulting his pro. He's completely serious, looks like he could kick the man's ass. "If Mike says he's gonna win Money in the Bank, then well, you can take it to the bank."

Mike smirks, impressed, flattered. Alex might just be the first person to have ever defended him in front of the other superstars, not that he needs it, but it's a refreshing change of pace from what he's used to. He enjoys the moment and then shockingly takes all the focus off himself. "And how 'bout you?" he asks, lightly backhanding Alex's arm. "I hear congratulations are in order to you as well, winning your match last week."

"Yeah, well, someone had to hold down the fort while you were on vacation."

"Hey now, _forced_ vacation. You know I couldn't be seen until last night's Raw, had to build up the anticipation for my first episode as the _new_ United States Champion." Mike proudly hoists his title onto his shoulder. "But I would've been here if they let me."

"Yeah, I'm sure, because this is so much better than spending a week on the green."

Mike laughs and rolls his eyes playfully. "Well, y'know, that was fun, too. But it's back to work now. And we're gonna _own_ our tag match tonight and show everyone why you're the next breakout star."

Alex grins and then turns to the rest of the locker room. "You nerds hear that? We're wiping the floor with every last one of you!"

"Great," Morrison mutters, raising his voice just loud enough so the words make it to Mike's ears. "Now we got two of 'em."

Consciously deciding to ignore John's hypocritical remark, Mike devotes his attention to a more worthy cause. Pats Alex's shoulder and then can't help but show off his title again.

**xxxx**

After the show, Mike heads back to the locker room, takes a quick shower and changes into a perfectly tailored three-piece suit. His unique fashion sense a reflection of his brazen personality. Hardly modest. A bold splash of color from a neon blue tie and the plaid lining of his jacket pops against the black canvas of his dress shirt and vest. His faux hawk styled meticulously. He takes pride in looking the best he can. He's always said if one wants to be a star they best look like one. Never understood why other wrestlers don't put the same amount of effort into their appearance, but at the same time, his debonair approach is what makes him stand out from the pack and he likes it that way.

As he's heading for the door, he notices Alex packing up his suitcase. "Hey, listen," he says, stopping next to the man. "I have to swing by the hotel to pick up my girlfriend. Need a lift?"

Alex looks up to Mike. Quickly comes to the decision that it'd be in his best interest to take his pro's offer and spend what little time he gets with the guy rather than going out for drinks. "Uh, yeah, that'd be great."

The two navigate the labyrinth of hallways, Mike as personable as ever, his cocky persona taking a break. The US Champ acknowledges every single person he passes, from his fellow superstars (even the ones who dislike him) to the busy crewmembers.

When the two are finally on the road, Mike feels like it's his first chance to breathe all night. He glances over and sees Alex next to him and smiles, recalling their match from earlier. "I'm tellin' ya, it's like we've been taggin' for years. Vince should be ashamed of what he let happen to the tag team division. It used to be fun and exciting. It's why I watched as a kid, y'know? There's just no excuse for it. I mean, you and I, after only having one match together, could basically turn it around overnight."

Alex laughs, surprised to be receiving such high praise. "Don't let Morrison hear you say that."

Mike scoffs. "I don't know what's with that guy. Y'know, we actually used to be good friends, but ever since I went off on my own, he's had a chip on his shoulder. He basically acts like it was some kind of betrayal or something."

"Betrayal? That's ridiculous. He should be happy for you."

"Someone should tell him that. The guy just won't let it go."

"So, uh…" Alex looks to Mike, taps the back of his hand against his mentor's forearm. "You got a big date tonight or somethin'? I mean look at you."

Mike looks down for a brief moment, realizes that Alex is referring to his suit. "Ah, it's pretty sweet, huh? Had it custom made last week."

"So, I was right. It is a date."

"Just taking Maryse out to dinner. I may have had a week off but she sure as hell didn't."

"Sounds like someone's gettin' lucky tonight!"

"Not likely," Mike mutters.

Alex furrows his brow, that wasn't exactly the response he expected to hear. "What?"

Wide-eyed, Mike looks at Alex out of the corner of his eye and then straight ahead at the road. "Nothing."

Alex swats Mike's upper arm, his mouth agape.

Mike purses his lips, frustrated with himself for letting something so personal slip so easily. "It's been a while, that's all."

"How long we talkin'?"

Mike takes a deep breath and shrugs. "A couple months?"

"Dude, a couple months? That's insane. A man should not be deprived of his most basic need."

Mike laughs out loud, his shock infused with feigned derision. "Really, Mr. Hot Shot? His most basic need? And how long has it been for you? Let me guess, a couple hours?"

"That's different," Alex says, straightening his posture. "I don't have a girlfriend at the moment."

"Really?" Mike mocks condescendingly, effectively conveying his lack of surprise, even though he actually is surprised. Very. Figured the guy would've had at least one girl on each arm at any given moment. "So like, a couple weeks then?"

"Before Valentine's Day," Alex mumbles.

Mike leans closer to his passenger, as far as his seatbelt will allow. Cups his ear. "What's that?"

"You heard me."

"No, I'm not sure that I did."

"Before Valentine's Day."

"Well there you go." Mike stifles a laugh. Usually he'd be pretty vicious with his take down, but despite his initial embarrassment, he's actually relieved to have been able to tell someone. It's not something he necessarily wants to talk about, but in keeping it to himself, he started to feel ashamed.

Although he feels a strong sense of ease around Alex and innately knows he can trust the guy, he tells himself that he should hold back, can't allow himself to be completely exposed. "She's just been dealing with some personal stuff lately and really, I've already said way more than I should've. She'd kill me if she knew I was talking about this. You can't tell anyone."

"Hey, it's in the vault, bud. But I gotta tell ya, not many guys would stick around if they weren't gettin' any."

"Maybe I'm not like most guys."

"So, does that mean you don't…"

Mike looks to Alex, wondering why he didn't finish his sentence, but he quickly realizes that he has, just not verbally. Alex is making a suggestive hand motion that sends Mike into hysterics. Luckily for them, Mike's already parked the car outside the hotel lobby.

Enjoying the way he's able to make Mike laugh, Alex starts embellishing _audibly_. Moaning excessively as he increases the speed of his hand.

Mike's eyes start to water from laughing so hard. "Stop, someone's gonna see you," he wheezes, but Alex keeps going prompting Mike to intervene. He backhands his rookie in the crotch - not too hard, wouldn't want to hurt him, but hard enough to put an abrupt end to the guy's shenanigans. Alex grunts and instantly grabs himself protectively. Whimpers through ragged laughter.

Still chuckling, Mike reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his phone. Sends Maryse a text to let her know he's outside. "You better go, dude…if you can walk."

Alex hobbles out of the car, exaggerating the pain. Before he shuts the door, he ducks down and looks at Mike. "Good luck tonight," he says with a wink.

Mike just shakes his head, a broad smile fixed in place.


	4. Power of the Punch

04. Power of the Punch

Week after week, Alex escapes elimination with a wide margin, but as the numbers dwindle down, he finds himself losing ground. The latest episode of NXT is no exception.

Alex staggers into Mike's hotel room. He was able to keep his cool in front of the other contestants and even on the ride to the hotel, but he can't hold back any longer. "They hate me," he groans. "They fucking hate me." Trusting the bed will break his fall, he lets himself go. The sullen man covers his face, wanting to hide; he's so humiliated. "Nothing I do is good enough for these people."

Mike sets a shiny red briefcase on the table, places his title on top of it. Even in the presence of his tangible accomplishments he grimaces, feels like he's been sucker punched. There's a knot in the pit of his stomach that he hasn't been able to untangle since Matt Striker revealed the latest ranking order and ultimately, the rookie with the least amount of votes. Though he feels as frustrated as Alex looks, Mike knows he has an obligation to refrain from showing the emotion. Has to remain strong and positive for Alex's sake. "They don't hate you," he says, doing his best to console his downtrodden rookie.

Alex sits up dramatically. "Really?" His tone – sarcastic; the question – a blatant rip-off of one of Mike's in-ring catch phrases. "Fifth place, Mike. Fifth place!" He pauses, wide-eyed and confused. "I don't get it. What does Kaval have that I don't have? That midget dick busts my head open, leaving me with this ugly scar-" He grabs the back of his head, wincing as he recalls the pain he felt when it happened and the numerous times the stitches popped during matches. "He's sloppy and boring and people love him. Meanwhile, I actually have talent and…and fifth place! The only guy I beat tonight was that loser, Lucky." Alex gets up, his anger on display. "Mike, I almost lost to Lucky Cannon!"

"But you didn't, did you? You're still in the game which means anything can happen. Anything's possible. Besides, the voting was cast before tonight's episode so everything that happened out there tonight will go towards next week anyway. Remember, you won the _Power of the Punch_ challenge tonight. And not only did you win, you slaughtered those punks. And because of it, you get to be on Raw with me next week. Not anyone else, just you. That's exposure and in this business there's nothing more powerful than that, especially on the most heavily promoted show in sports entertainment."

"You don't have to tell me that. I get it and I'm grateful that was the prize, but I don't understand why no one cares about talent anymore. They only care about the _good guys_." The phrase delivered with a pair of air quotes - Alex's sarcasm adequately emphasized. "The Cena's and the Rock's of the industry."

"Oh please, The Rock wasn't always the good guy. Hell, he still isn't and it's not like he didn't have to work hard to win over his fans. It took him years. And you know how he did that? By being himself, by not giving up. It's about dedication and being authentic and genuine and everything you said out there tonight was right on point - how you're not gonna change to cater to the WWE Universe. And nor should you. That's the mentality you need to hold onto if you're ever gonna be successful."

Alex scowls, stuck in his state of self-pity, but as he takes the time to really hear what his mentor is saying – what his _friend_ is saying - the tension starts to melt away. "So, you like The Rock?"

Mike chortles, relieved to see his rookie starting to relax. "Don't you?"

"Of course. Are you kidding? A former football player hitting the big time? He's a huge inspiration."

"Yeah. For me too."

"I can see that," Alex says with a smirk. "You could be the next Rock."

"Thank you." Mike dramatically adjusts the knot in his tie; tries to disguise his humility, play up his vanity. "Y'know, I like to believe I have it in me to bridge the gap like he did. The way that guy owns a mic…" He loses himself for a moment, awash in admiration for the innovative entertainer who paved the way for someone like him. Hopes to leave an equally profound impression of his own so that one day he can inspire others to follow in his footsteps. "But I got years and years to go before I'm ever at that level. Wouldn't mind goin' up against him though. Can you imagine going one on one with the _Great One_? Fuck. Now that might actually be the one dream I have that doesn't have the smallest chance of coming true."

Alex chuckles. "Especially when he'd rather be off making movies."

"Right?!"

"You're not gonna disappear and become a big movie star, are you?"

Mike laughs exceptionally loud, almost snorts. "I have a better shot at having a _'Mania _moment with The Rock than I do being in a movie!"

"No way. I can see it now, you could be the next Rock _and_ the next Rocky!"

"Okay, okay. Let's get back on track." Mike doesn't usually interrupt a nice ego stroking, but he feels the tips of his ears starting to heat up, knows his cheeks must be bright red. "Listen, the fact of the matter is that when people see a guy with all the tools, y'know, the wrestling skills and the mic skills on top of a natural sense of humor, confidence, charisma, the striking good looks, the incredible physique, the athletic ability…You want me to continue?"

Alex dons a goofy smile, can't contain its perimeter, his tongue poking through his cheek. Visibly bashful, he looks to the ground.

Mike snickers, enjoys teasing his friend and embarrassing him in the same way he was just meant to feel, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he's not doing it out of malice or because he feels threatened. "When they see someone like you, I swear it's system overload. It's blinding and they freak out. Basically, these people are notorious for not knowing what they want and all you can do is hang in there and be yourself until they come around because one day they will, but if you let them get to you now and you start to doubt yourself, then that's when you implode and I promise you, if you let that happen, they'll eat you alive without a second thought."

"You believe in me that much?"

Mike hesitates, realizes he's never actually given his feelings towards Alex a proper name before. But belief, that sounds accurate.

In the beginning he really wanted his rookie to win, mainly, if not entirely, because of how it would affect him. But gradually, he's finding himself caring less and less about how a win would reflect on his mentoring skills or popularity status. He genuinely believes Alex should win based on his merits alone - even if he was someone else's rookie.

"I believe you have what it takes to go all the way and I'm gonna do everything in my power over the next three weeks to help you make that happen." Mike hops over to the table and grabs his red briefcase. "You see this? Not only am I the United States Champion but two weeks ago, I won this. I'm Mr. Money in the Bank!" He slaps the aluminum case enthusiastically. "No one ever thought this would happen except for one person. Me. See, when I say I'm gonna do something, I do it. And you need to start thinking that way, too. Because me believing in you means nothing if you don't believe in yourself. So, no more of this pouting crap, alright?"

A burst of motivation surges through Alex's system.

"Next week on Raw we're gonna show everyone why you're the next breakout star." Mike holds out his hand and Alex promptly grabs hold of it, shaking with a firm grip.


	5. One Door Closes

05. One Door Closes

There are many reasons to laugh. As an expression of happiness or excitement. To mock someone. Out of surprise or relief. A reaction to an awkward situation, an attempt to lighten the mood. A tickling of the senses through physical contact or by seeing something amusing or hearing a funny joke. Unfortunately for Alex, nothing about his current situation is remotely funny, yet he laughs. It's a laugh reserved for moments of embarrassment or disappointment; a way to hide unruly nerves. In this moment, laughing is the only way Alex can keep himself from tearing up.

He looks towards the stage and sees Mike flailing his arms defiantly, cursing the NXT audience, more than comfortable voicing his opinion at what he deems an inexcusable injustice. A third place finish isn't at all what anyone was expecting, least of all Alex and Mike.

After a respectable concession speech, one in which Alex assures the audience that his story has just begun, he rolls out of the ring, still grinning ear to ear. The happy facade clearly masking his disappointment, but if you didn't know what just happened, you'd never know the guy is dying on the inside. He holds tight to his smile, it's the only sense of security he has. If he allows it to fall away, he'll become too vulnerable to the ridicule surrounding him.

Mike walks down the ramp, meeting his rookie half way as NXT's theme song blasts throughout the arena. "Nice guys always finish first around here, I guess." Mike pats Alex's shoulder, trying his best to lift the guy's spirits. "Don't worry about it. You did great."

Mike holds out his hand as a show of support, but Alex almost doesn't even see the gesture because he's concentrating so hard on maintaining his smile. And on top of that, it's hard to look at Mike because looking at him will make the moment become all too real. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not in front of the unforgiving nature of the camera - the footage it captures ensuring the moment, as well as his handling of it, will follow him forever.

The pair disappear backstage as Matt Striker's gearing up to announce the winner.

It's a collision with a concrete wall. Alex knew he hit speed bumps along the way, but in the last twelve weeks there were no clear cut signs that could have prepared him for this kind of devastation; this anvil crushing his spirit, making him question every decision he made, making him question his validity and if he even has a future with the company at all. And yet, he still doesn't let his smile slip away as he walks down the corridors of the arena, Mike glued to his side.

"Alex-"

Alex raises his hand slightly. "Wait a second, Mike," he mutters calmly, trying to keep it together, doesn't want to break down in the hall where he'd be seen. Must stay strong.

Recognizing the serious tone of Alex's voice, Mike obeys the request. Respectfully falls back just a bit so as not to crowd the guy. When the two enter the locker room, Mike silently watches the man. Has a pestering need to console his rookie, and more than that, he wants to console a friend, but he can tell the best thing for him to do is wait for Alex's cue.

"Mother fucker!" Alex wails, his voice cracking as he punches one of the locker doors so hard he leaves a dent.

Mike jumps at the sudden outburst. He's never seen Alex lose his temper before and it's jarring…and it's understandable, relatable even.

Alex plops down on the nearest bench, feeling utterly defeated, his face falling into his hands.

Mike has a perfect view of Alex's raw knuckles. Knows the guy can't feel the sparks of pain shooting through his fist and down to his elbow because of the adrenaline coursing through his body, but he'll surely feel it tomorrow.

"I'm so embarrassed," Alex admits sadly, his voice muffled. "I let you down, didn't I?"

"Shit, no. That's the furthest thing from the truth, Alex. You have to know that." If anything, there's a severe sense of guilt on Mike's part. Feels like he could've been a better mentor, like he could have done more and the fact that he hasn't a clue what else he could have done makes him feel even worse.

"I knew they hated me. I should have done better. I should have listened to them and given them what they wanted. They asked for a hero and I gave them a villain."

"Yeah, that's right! You're the _Varsity Villain_ and don't you forget it," Mike says, alluding to one of Alex's many monikers. "You stayed true to yourself out there and that's the most important thing. You showed them what you're made of. I don't care what anyone thinks, you're more talented than half the guys they got on the roster right now. You're special, Alex. _The Rare Breed_. I know what you're going through and you gotta believe me when I tell you, you did everything right."

"If I did everything right, I'd be standing out there with everything I ever wanted within arm's reach. This was it, Mike. This was my big break. It's the only chance I'm ever gonna get and I fucking blew it."

Mike's demeanor softens.

In only a few months he's managed to grow an attachment to Alex in a way that isn't customary, not on his part anyway. People are constantly coming and going through the revolving door of this hectic business; the roster is in a constant state of flux and there just isn't time to form proper bonds and cultivate real friendships. And the guys that do manage to stick around tend to be influenced by the ones that have never taken the time to get to know him. But being around Alex is different. From the first moment they met Mike's felt like he's known the man his entire life and he doesn't want to see him hurting.

"Listen, Alex. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that there's always a second chance. It don't matter if you already had one or ten, as long as you're breathing that second chance is waiting for you. You just have to be willing to go after it. And things very rarely work out the way we imagine them. Sometimes seeing the big picture is the hardest thing ever and sometimes it's impossible to imagine there even being a bigger picture while you're trudging through the muck. But I promise you, if you don't cloud your vision with all this negative bullshit you'll see that there's another door that's been left cracked opened. Y'know, when I came in second place on Tough Enough everyone thought that was the end of the line for me, but all it did was reaffirm just how badly I wanted this. People mocked me, tried to run me out of the company, but who gives a fuck what those assholes think. I wasn't gonna let anyone take this away from me. I loved it too damned much, I knew I was meant to be here and so I busted my ass every day for what I wanted and look at where I am now. I'm the United States Champion and Mr. Money in the Bank, the future face of this company."

Alex sighs, shakes his head and looks up to Mike with broken eyes. He doesn't mean to ignore what his pro is saying. He knows the guy is only trying to help and actually has the credentials to back up his advice, but listening to someone else's experiences right now doesn't change the fact that he just lost and has no prospects for the future. For all he knows he could be on the next flight back to Florida for repackaging – to develop a new character, to start from scratch. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

Mike catches his breath. The company will work with their talent until they prove to be a lost cause, or disgrace the brand's name in some way, but if Alex doesn't have the drive or even the will to want to stay and fight, then that could be it, he could end up leaving and...

Suddenly this becomes very real for Mike. The thought makes him angry, resentful towards the audience and even nervous.

Doubt begins to infiltrate his mind. He wonders if he'd been too optimistic, underestimated what a third place finish really means. Almost all the guys from the first season of NXT have been utilized in some form or another, but what if it turns out they don't have any space for Alex? What if this is it? What if it _is_ all over?

He shakes it away, refuses to fall into the trap of negative thinking. He has to be the voice of reason right now. He has to follow his own advice. There's always a second chance and he'll make sure Alex gets his. The combination of not wanting the guy to go and believing in him so much, confirms for Mike that he'll be able to help his friend. He takes a step towards the man to assure him that everything will work out, but the locker room door swings open, breaking him away from the attempt.

Startled, Alex defensively stands to his feet and focuses on the guy walking towards him.

Mike suddenly feels like an outsider, as if _he's_ the one interrupting _them_.

"Alex, dude, I'm so sorry."

Alex looks to Cody and shakes his hand. Finds it hard to relate to a kid who's only in the company because of his family ties, but he appreciates the support. Aside from Mike, Cody's the only one who's ever given him the time of day backstage. "Thanks, man."

Mike looks on awkwardly, like an uninvited spectator. He wonders when Alex and Cody Rhodes became friends. He watches as the younger superstar inadvertently takes his place in consoling _his_ rookie, _his_ friend. That nervousness and resentment he felt a few minutes earlier becomes more intense, more complex. There's no other way to describe it. In the simplest of terms, Mike is jealous.

**xxxx**

As luck would have it, Mike runs into the head honcho in the hall after he parts ways with Alex. Even though he can tell Vince is in a rush, this is his opportunity. He can't afford to miss out on it. "Mr. McMahon, do you have a second?"

"If this is about Riley, we don't know what we're gonna do with him just yet."

Mike turns in the same direction as Vince, walks briskly to keep up with him. "So, you're gonna keep him around?"

"Like I said," Vince reiterates, borderline perturbed, "I haven't decided."

"If you don't mind, just real quick, I wanted to remind you that you're the one who told me how much potential he has and you were absolutely right, sir. He does. He's brimming with untapped potential. Basically, I just want you to know that if you can't find a spot for him, for any reason, I'm willing to take him under my wing, if you need me to."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Knowing his bounds, Mike stops in the middle of the hallway – Vince unfazed. The superstar barely has time to thank his boss as he's rounding the corner, but he manages to get it out just in time, and he _is_ thankful. He didn't get to say half the things he would've liked to, but Vince is a smart man. Mike's sure his boss has seen how well he and Alex work together. They even won their tag match the night before on Raw - _that_, at the very least, has to still be fresh in the mogul's mind. Either way, Mike feels much better now that Vince knows where he stands and what he's willing to do.


	6. Tickets

06. Tickets

The hardest thing is not knowing - to be left in a state of limbo.

Alex returns back home to his apartment in Tampa. Goes to the gym, hangs out with the friends he made while training in FCW – tries to go about life as normally as possible, but it's difficult when there's a burning question always in the forefront of his thoughts.

For five days he waits for word to come down the pike – whether he'll be staying in Florida for further training or facing the prospect of repackaging; or if he'll be moving up with an opportunity to go forward with his current in-ring persona. Five long days and finally he gets an answer.

It's good news. They want him in Washington, D.C. for the live broadcast of Raw planned for tonight.

He's on a flight within hours.

**xxxx**

"A personal services contract?"

"Yeah, they came up with the idea that _Miz_ would sign his NXT rookie, that would be you, to a contract."

Alex leans in just a little like he has a secret. "But _personal services_?" He straightens his posture, looks around Mike's hotel room like he's unsure. If there were other people around he might think the whole thing was a practical joke.

Mike shrugs nonchalantly. "Basically it just means that you would do whatever I need you to do. Protect me, defend me. Y'know, be in my corner, help me win matches, stuff like that."

"Just to be clear, we're talking about on the show, right? You're not gonna make me fold your underwear or anything."

Mike laughs unexpectedly loud. "Well, now that you mention it!"

Alex gives Mike a playful shove, his smile still lingering. "So, does it start tonight?"

"No." Mike hesitates, breaks eye contact. "It starts the night after I lose my title."

"Not to _Bryan_!"

Mike nods. "At the pay-per-view in two weeks."

"I thought you were meant to win that match."

"Y'know how it is. Plans change."

Alex can see that Mike's trying to act like it's no big deal, but the sadness in his eyes tells a different story. He's worried at what that could mean given the timing. "It didn't have to do with me, did it?"

"With _you_?" Mike acts surprised, too surprised, like he's trying to mock the absurdity of such a thought.

Alex remains serious and rightfully so. His eyes reflect the same kind of sadness he saw from Mike; after three months, he knows when the guy's trying too hard.

No longer able to deflect, Mike succumbs to his friend's concern. "I agreed to help push that idiot over if they found a spot for you."

Alex catches his breath. He's both hurt that they were going to discard him, and moved by Mike's loyalty. He's not sure if anyone's ever given up so much for him before; holding a title is everything in this business. "Mike, I-"

"Anyway," Mike interrupts, "I'm gonna blindside that tool on Raw tonight, and of course, he'll get the upper hand. And that's where you come in!" He gets a big, devilish grin on his face, excited. "You come running from the audience, jump over the barricade like you're some kind of superhero and you save me from his stupid LeBell lock."

"I can do that," Alex says proudly, well aware that Mike's just given him a golden ticket. "With or without a personal services contract."

**xxxx**

_Thank you._ For some reason the two words fall flat, which poses a problem for someone who wants to express gratitude. But _Def Leppard_ - also two words, and yet, so much more. The 80's rock band is Mike's favorite and somehow he's never had a chance to see them in concert. Alex wants to change that.

As luck would have it, the band will be performing in L.A. just in time for Mike's birthday. Ideally, treating him to the show would be the perfect way for Alex to thank his friend for everything he's done for him – especially in these past few weeks since NXT ended - but there's a complication: tickets are hard to come by. In fact, they're completely sold out and have been for months. Alex searches every avenue at his disposal, but comes up empty handed. And then it hits him. The most obvious answer is the one closest to him - he could ask his dad. The man has his own radio show; he talks about sports, but it's radio nonetheless. People give him football tickets all the time, so why not concert tickets, too? He must have a connection of some kind. Maybe he knows a guy who knows a guy. Sure enough he does and Alex gets his hands on two of the most widely coveted tickets in the country.

Alex straddles a bench in the overcrowded locker room, his suitcase lucky to find a spot next to him. Slowly he unzips one of the front pockets and pulls out the concert tickets just enough so he can see them, but not so much that anyone else could. He admires them, a goofy smile on his lips as he imagines how much fun he and Mike will have come Friday night.

The hard part's done. He's tracked down the tickets and booked a flight to Los Angeles, so now all that's left to do is extend the invitation to Mike. Suddenly, the man bursts through the door and Alex quickly tucks the tickets back into his bag.

"When _I'm_ WWE Champion," Mike broadcasts to every person within earshot, his voice bouncing from wall to wall, "there's not gonna be anymore of this locker room crap! I'm gonna have my own private dressing room and none of you punks are invited!" Mike lowers his gaze, sees Alex sitting on the bench, the only one remotely interested in what he's saying. "Well, maybe I'll make an exception for A-Ry."

Alex cackles, deliberately going overboard with his enthusiasm. He jumps to his feet and high fives Mike solely to annoy the other superstars, and it works.

"Ahhhh, get a room!"

Alex cocks his head, looks over his shoulder, glaring at the group of men, trying to determine the owner of such an immature slight.

"Ignore them," Mike says calmly, patting Alex's shoulder. "They're just jealous."

Alex nods and is quickly convinced that Mike's right. "Hey, listen, whatcha doin' after the show?"

"Just headin' back to the hotel. Got an early flight in the morning…Why? Did you wanna do something?"

Alex tucks his chin in, looks up at Mike through his lashes. "In Wichita?" The condescension in his voice is over exaggerated, mostly because he likes the idea of Mike going straight to the hotel after Raw; doesn't want him to change his mind. It'll be the perfect opportunity to give him the ticket without prying eyes gawking at them and making stupid jokes - they've already proven themselves to be the most untrustworthy spectators after all. "And what about Maryse?"

"What about her?"

"Is she going back with you?"

"Oh. Not sure. She usually likes to go out with Kelly, but since we are in _Wichita_..."

Alex giggles and Mike watches him with a smirk, enjoys making his friend laugh.

"We better head out there. God forbid we keep Edge waiting."

**xxxx**

It's like a dream. Alex is standing face to face with a living legend, at least in _his_ eyes, but he'd wager the thousands in attendance think so, too. A few months ago, the closest he ever thought he'd get to Edge was watching him on tv and now he's on the other side of it, standing across from him in the middle of a wrestling ring, surrounded by cameras.

Alex proudly stands at Mike's side, holding the Money in the Bank briefcase for him. It instills a greater confidence in him, as if he's the one who climbed the ladder and claimed it as his own. Doing as he's been instructed, he listens as Mike exchanges verbal jabs with the _Rated-R Superstar_. He knows he's only out there to be speared by Edge, giving Mike an opening to hit him with his finishing move, but at one point, he gets so excited he can't stop himself from grabbing the mic and defending his mentor. Such a rush. But nevertheless, the insults towards Mike keep coming.

"I haven't even seen you successfully talk to a woman since I've known you."

Alex rolls his eyes at the idiocy, but then Edge is looking to _him_, wagging his finger.

"Unless of course, you count Alex Riley."

The audience erupts into hysterics, as does Alex, but Alex isn't laughing because he finds the so-called joke funny.

The next thing Alex is aware of is Mike helping him out of the ring. He tries to focus, but he's coughing, trying to catch his breath like the wind has been knocked out of him. His gut feels like it's on fire. Suddenly, it occurs to him: he must have already been speared.

Alex is pulled off the apron, his feet falling to the padded floor below and he can hardly stand on his own – must rely on the side of the ring while Mike momentarily releases him to collect his prized possession from the floor. As Alex waits, a piece of missing time comes back to him. It's his sarcastic comeback to Edge's joke, hearing it as if someone else had said it. It makes him laugh and as a result, his stomach hurts that much more from the violent spasms. He clutches his belly and is relieved when Mike gathers him up with the same care he's just shown to his briefcase.

Alex feels a strong sense of security with Mike's arm wrapped around him. He feels safe, no one can touch him now. He melts into Mike a little more with each step. His mentor's whole body acting like a crutch and Alex feels weightless, Mike's strength becoming his strength. As they make their way up the ramp, Alex suddenly finds himself feeling threatened all over again, but not physically. At this point, the cameramen have backed off, positioning themselves for the next segment, but Alex can't help feeling like the cameras are still on them. All he can think about is how everyone can see them. They can see the way Mike's arm is around his shoulder, they can see the way his forehead is nestled inside the crook of Mike's neck.

_Get a room!_

_Unless of course, you count Alex Riley._

The insults of the night ricochet in his memory, each iteration louder than the last. He doesn't care if people make fun of him, it's par for the course, but knowing they're mocking him at Mike's expense makes him sad in a way he would never be for himself.

As soon as the pair are backstage, Mike turns to Alex, concern in his eyes, and lightly touches his protégé's abdomen. "You alright?"

Alex looks around, feels like people are still watching them. "Uh…" He brings his hand up under Mike's hand, discreetly moving it out of the way…and off of him.

"You could crash on one of the couches here if you want. I could get you an ice pack from the trainer's room."

"You think I could just go back to the hotel?"

"Oh," Mike says, disappointed that Alex doesn't want to stick around, if only to keep him company. "I don't know. I guess you could check with one of the producers. You know I'd drive you, but I still have a match tonight. You think you can find a ride?"

Alex nods. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

A soft smile. "Thanks, Mike."

**xxxx**

Alex unwinds with a hot shower. The steam relaxes his muscles and clears his mind, allowing reentry for the missing time. He winces. Feels the impact of the spear all over again; definitely doesn't blame his brain for blocking it out. When he's finished, he dries off and puts on a new outfit. Can't get ready for bed just yet, he still has unfinished business to attend to, but Mike won't be back for another hour. Still sore with time to kill, he lies down, his legs hanging off the side of the bed, keeping him from becoming too comfortable and accidentally falling asleep.

He stretches out his arms. The palm of one hand crashing down on a pillow and fingertips of the other landing on a material that isn't fabric. It's smooth, unlike the textured pattern of the comforter. He traces the limited surface area, then the sharp edges. Realizes it's paper, a bit thicker than paper actually, like card stock. Of course. It's the tickets. Alex brings one up into his line of sight and the object he's been admiring for days - not just the object, but the _idea_ - suddenly seems to have lost its allure. He huffs, hand falling heavy to the bed; dead weight, unmotivated.

A roll of the eyes, a sure tell sign of frustration, and it's all thanks to a couple immature remarks spreading their poison throughout his system; a cancerous invasion turning hopeful thoughts into pestering doubts. Alex is surprised that he's letting the whole thing affect him so much. It's nothing new, it's nothing he hasn't done himself; he's dubbed himself the _Varsity Villain_ for a reason, so the fact that he's allowing himself to build up an actual resentment towards Edge for a joke not unlike the ones he's been mindlessly tossing around since middle school doesn't make a lick of sense.

However, the last thing he wants to do is add fuel to a fire, even if that fire is no more than a spark. So, even though it was _his_ idea, even though _he_ bought the tickets, and even though _he's_ the one who's been looking forward to Friday night, Alex can't in good conscience take Mike out for his birthday when he knows that day of all days should be spent with his girlfriend. After all, _that's_ what people expect and anything other than that would be tantamount to Alex willfully providing the fuel and fanning the flames of ridicule that he could have so easily avoided.

For an ill-conceived moment, he's tempted to rip the tickets in half because he's so disappointed that everything's fallen apart, but then he remembers why he bought them in the first place. It was never about him. It's about Mike. It's about thanking the man for what he's selflessly done for him, doing something nice for someone who never asks for anything in return. And at the very least, it'll take his mind off of losing his title a couple weeks ago, the man still reeling from it. Even Alex still feels bad about Mike having to hand over his United States Championship to the most unworthy opponent.

With his realization, Alex notices that it's been well over an hour since he laid down. He has to get a move on if he's going to catch Mike before he goes to sleep. So, he gets up, places the concert tickets into an empty envelope for safe keeping and he's out the door.

During the short elevator ride up to Mike's floor, he pulls out the tickets, double checking that he does in fact have them, and a warmth befalls him. It may slant to the selfish side of the giving spectrum, but Alex gleans a certain amount of comfort in the fact that even though he can't join Mike, he still gets to give him the present. It's still from him and nothing can change that. It must count for something. He chuckles to himself as he steps into the hall, feeling embarrassed for having blown something quite innocent completely out of proportion. Staring at the tickets with a fondness, Alex accepts that even in his hands, they no longer belong to him.

As he walks down the long stretch of hall to Mike's room, he hears whispers that peel his attention from the tickets. He tucks them back inside the envelope as he looks up. John Morrison is at Mike's door. Wonders if the two are finally burying the hatchet.

Still too far down the hall, he has a hard time distinguishing what's actually happening. A couple steps closer and it looks like they're arguing. A couple steps more and he notices that John's smiling too much to be arguing. Alex is alarmed when John tries to push the door open, though - his arguing theory coming back into play, but there's no force. It's playful, almost appearing to be flirtatious, but that can't be right. Alex furrows his brow, still confused by what he's seeing and it doesn't help that he can't see Mike; the door set too far back and the wall too far forward. He hears another whisper. He's close enough this time to know that it definitely wasn't John - his lips didn't move. It was stern though and followed by the brisk closing of the door.

John clears his throat in a very serious way, lingers at the door for a second. It appears to Alex as if the guy's pulling himself together and then he turns towards Alex, doesn't seem the least bit surprised to see him, like he'd been warned of his presence. John tosses his shoulder-length hair back with a flick of his head while simultaneously putting on a pair of sunglasses. He starts strutting towards Alex like he's on a runway at a fashion show.

Alex is still walking towards John, and now John towards Alex and then he's brushing past him. "Riley," John says, his tone absent of emotion, doesn't slow down, doesn't look at him. Just keeps going forward. If Alex hadn't stepped to the side, he's sure John would have mowed him down.

"Morrison," Alex says, mimicking the guy's delivery and he wants to laugh. Doesn't the guy know he's indoors?

Strange. The whole thing was just strange, but Alex doesn't waste any time trying to figure it out. He has more important things to do. He approaches the door. Brings his hand up to knock and then hesitates. An odd feeling comes over him, but he can't pinpoint what it is exactly. Mistakes it for nerves and he can't understand why that should be. He just stood in the center of an arena, thousands strong, with millions more watching at home and that barely fazed him at all. Giving Mike a birthday present should be the easiest thing he does tonight. It shouldn't make him nervous. He seals the envelope in an effort to distract himself, to stall, and after a few long seconds, he finally follows through, his knuckles connecting with the door three times in rapid succession.

The door opens and Alex's stomach drops. It's a deep, sinking feeling in the pit of his gut that, in a way, feels worse than Edge's worst spear. _Fucking Wichita._

Maryse looks Alex over vapidly, waiting for him to say something, but he's silent. "What?"

Alex can't help feeling like he's ten years old again, riding his bike to a friend's house and asking an overbearing mother who doesn't like him if he can play with her son. "Is Mike here?"

"No." The monosyllabic answer is swift and effective.

"Oh." Alex is visibly disappointed. This was his only chance to give Mike the tickets. "It's his birthday on Friday, right?"

"So?" Maryse looks down, notices that Alex is fidgeting with something. "Is that for him?" she asks, her thick French accent finally on display.

Alex looks down and as soon as he discovers Maryse is referring to the envelope, he brings his other hand in front of him to hold it, like he's guarding it from a circling vulture. But knowing Mike has to leave early and there won't be another opportunity to get the tickets to him, Alex realizes he has no choice but to hand them over to the only person he knows Mike will see. He reluctantly holds out the envelope. "Can you make sure he gets this?"

Maryse snatches the envelope out of Alex's hand and it startles him. He immediately regrets handing it over and he wants to snatch it back, but it's too late for that. He already forfeited his chance to give them to Mike.

"Uh, and I know it's early, but if you could wish him a happy birthday for me, I'd really-"

"Is that it?"

Alex nods, his body tense. He's not sure if he's ever felt so intimidated in his life. "Thank-" But Maryse has already shut the door.

He takes a step back, at a complete loss for what just happened. He can't fathom why Maryse was so short with him, and rude. And not just rude, but blatantly mean. He's said a handful of sentences to her his entire life, he's been nothing but decent to her and in return she treats him like shit.

Alex turns away. Walks back to his room, saddened once again that the night didn't go as planned.

**xxxx**

Maryse shuts the door in Alex's face. Walks into the room and carelessly tosses the envelope on the table. A few seconds later the bathroom door opens and Mike walks out, a towel draped over his head as he dries his dampened hair. "Was that Alex?"

"Why would it be Alex?"

Mike shrugs. "I dunno, we were talking earlier and I got the impression he was gonna come by tonight and I thought I heard someone at the door. Was someone here?"

"Just John."

Mike sneers. "Cena?"

"Morrison."

"Oh yeah? What'd he want?"

"Only for me to come to his room later tonight, while you're asleep."

Mike laughs at the preposterous answer. "Yeah, he wishes!" Just then, a bright light is caught in his periphery. He immediately looks down at it and realizes it's not a light at all, just the white matte surface of an unmarked envelope sitting on the table and he knows it wasn't there before he got in the shower. "Did Morrison bring that over?" He points to the object so Maryse knows what he's referring to.

Maryse shakes her head from side to side.

Mike furrows his brow, picks it up. "What is it?"

Maryse takes a step closer, eyeballing the envelope and then looks up to Mike. "Open it and find out."

"It's not for my birthday, is it? You know how much I hate presents," he says, all the while wriggling his finger under the flap.

"Then don't open it." Maryse goes to grab the envelope, but Mike pulls it back just in time.

"Now I _have_ to open it!" Mike blushes, really curious now. He breaks the seal and pulls out two tickets to the Def Leppard concert. "No way! Honey! These are impossible to get, how'd you manage this?" Mike rushes over to his girlfriend and kisses her. "We're gonna have so much fun," he says between extra kisses.

Mike wears a silly grin as he finishes getting ready for bed. Randomly pitches ideas for the weekend as they come to him: where they'll eat, what he'll wear. Anything that enters his mind, he verbalizes in a whimsical string of consciousness. He climbs under the sheets, still holding onto the tickets, knows how rare they are, how special. "This is literally the best gift I ever got." Carefully, Mike pushes them back into their envelope, doesn't want to bend them, and delicately places his gift on the nightstand. He turns towards the center of the bed and scoots closer to Maryse. He runs his hand over her shoulder, tenderly presses his lips to bronzed skin and then rolls her over onto her back. "Thank you," he whispers against her lips. He kisses her, wanting to show her how grateful he is. Moves his hand to her breast as he attempts to deepen the kiss, but she's not as receptive as he would like.

"Not tonight, Michael."

Mike huffs, disappointed. "I thought that was last week."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm irregular?"

Mike tenses up, purses his lips, twitches his nose – clear signs that he's agitated. Does everything in his power to restrain himself from saying what he'd like to say. He moves back to his side of the bed, doesn't understand how Maryse could do something so wonderful and thoughtful, yet act as though she doesn't even like him. He has no other way of explaining such fickleness except to chalk it up to her unpredictable hormones like she said - not that it makes him feel any better. He rolls over and sees the envelope sitting where he left it and his spirits are instantly lifted. He sits up and leans against the headboard, grabs the envelope off the table. Slowly, he pulls the tickets out and stares at them with fond admiration.


	7. Curve Ball

07. Curve Ball

Rather than hanging out at the venue or going out for some drinks with the guys, or even his girlfriend, Mike uncharacteristically races back to his hotel room after Raw wraps up.

When the company is on the east coast, the superstar never makes it back to his hotel before midnight, it just doesn't happen. But when they perform on the west coast, like tonight in Seattle, the newly declared _Captain of Team Raw_ is afforded a very rare opportunity that he can't pass up.

He flies through the door like he's the one to beat in a marathon. With only seconds to spare, he makes a mad dash to the bed, tossing his suit jacket across the king-sized mattress as he plants himself directly in front of the tv screen. He's glued to it the instant he turns it on.

Surprisingly, he's never been a huge fan of television - he'd much rather be on it than watch it - but over the years he's managed to collect a few favorites. Usually to stay caught up, he has to rely on his DVR and wait for a day off, but these days, with his responsibilities growing each week, those are far and few between. And that's why he's so excited right now. It has nothing to do with his big win over the company's poster boy, John Cena, earlier, and it doesn't matter that he'll be leading his team to victory at the upcoming _Bragging Rights_ pay-per-view either. For once, his excitement doesn't stem from his job, but from something simple, something most people take for granted - he's finally able to watch an episode of one of his greatest guilty pleasures as it airs for the first time.

Only ten minutes in and he's engrossed; even the loud knock at the door can't fully tear him away. Not putting much thought into it, he figures Maryse must be back early and misplaced her keycard, so he gets up to let her in. Keeping most of his attention firmly on his show, he opens the door, almost failing to recognize he had assumed incorrectly. A double take is required. "Alex!"

"Hey, bud, want some company?"

"Sure," Mike says with a receptive smile, opening the door all the way for his protégé.

"You bolted out of the arena so fast, I wasn't sure if-"

"Shit," Mike curses under his breath, cutting Alex off. In his surprise, he had forgotten all about his show and since he originally thought Maryse was at the door, he didn't bother turning it off, but now that Alex is here…

He releases the doorknob and rushes back towards the bed.

Alex is taken aback by the sight and wonders what could have gotten into Mike all of a sudden. Letting himself in, he watches as the frantic man grabs the remote and clicks off the tv as fast as his clumsy hands will allow. Alex stands there, equal parts shocked and amused, a huge smile spreading across his face. "What were ya watchin'?"

"Nothing," Mike insists - a deer frozen in bright, white headlights. Unwittingly, he moves his hand behind his back, attempting to hide the remote like he's done something wrong. A feeling washes over him that's reminiscent of the time he was caught stealing money out of his mom's purse; except in his mind, this time feels more like he's robbed a federal bank. Needless to say, his suspicious behavior has not done him any favors and now Alex is certain his mentor's trying to hide something.

"C'mon, what was it?" Alex reaches for the remote but Mike successfully dodges his friend's attempt. Alex gasps, his jaw left gaping dramatically, feigning outrage. "It was porn!" he accuses with an accompanying point of his finger. "Not like other guys, my ass." He relishes Mike's expression for a long pause, enjoys seeing the guy sweat just a little and then he shrugs it off. "Who cares? Turn it on, I'll watch it with you."

Mike scoffs. "I'm not watching porn with you. Besides, it wasn't porn."

"Ah, but it _is_ _something_ you don't want me to see." Alex reaches behind Mike again, with both arms this time. Mike squirms, trying to wriggle out of the loose entanglement. Taking a step back, Alex holds his hand out, palm up, authoritatively demanding Mike hand over the captive clicker. He tries to suppress his smile, but he has a hard time staying in character - his tongue lodging in his cheek, fumbling the ruse. His snickering certainly doesn't help his cause either.

"No. Stop it!" Mike swats Alex's hand away and though he's serious about keeping the persistent man at bay, even _he's_ unable to hide a smile at this point - his eyes totally giving him away.

With a half-hearted follow through, Alex lunges at Mike, intentionally trying to make him jump, but Mike overreacts and hurls the remote under the bed. He looks up to Alex, raising his chin arrogantly, contorting his mouth, impressed by his quick thinking; his insurmountable ingenuity.

"Really?" Alex asks in a patronizing tone, squinting his eyes. "Is this what we're doing?" He waits for a response, but Mike just nods defiantly. "Fine," he concedes, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You win." He huffs, turning away from Mike as if he doesn't have time for such childish nonsense, but with a single step, he keels over. "Ah, my leg!" He howls in agony, clutching his thigh.

Knowing that Cena had put Alex into a pretty intense submission hold earlier, Mike is instantly concerned for his friend. He's no longer thinking about the tv situation, only about Alex's well-being. "Are you alright, man?"

Quickly, Alex sprints to the desk - his diversion throwing Mike off just long enough so he's able to reach out to the flat screen mounted on the wall.

"Don't!" Mike bellows, charging towards Alex, closing the space between them, but he's too late.

With his football instincts going into overdrive, Alex holds Mike back as the picture flickers into focus and when it does, he's confused by what he sees. "What the hell is this?"

Mike sighs, dropping his forehead between Alex's shoulder blades, wondering why it couldn't have just been a commercial. He takes a deep breath and steps back, feeling the weight of true defeat. "It's just a show I like to watch sometimes."

"Oh." Alex walks over to the foot of the bed and sits on the edge. Pats the spot beside him and looks up to Mike, wanting him to take a seat. "What's it called?"

Mike looks at Alex with skepticism. Wonders if he's genuinely interested or just messing with him some more. Hesitantly, he sits down next to the guy, choosing to believe that he's being serious. "Gossip Girl," he answers meekly, watching Alex, waiting for him to laugh.

Alex furrows his brow, studying Mike's demeanor. "Are you embarrassed?"

Mike shrugs.

"I didn't think The Miz got embarrassed."

"He doesn't," Mike says adamantly. His eyes are steady and then he breaks the hold, lowering his gaze to his lap. "But sometimes Mike Mizanin does."

Alex nudges Mike with his shoulder and offers a friendly smile to let him know that he's in safe company.

Despite Alex's good intentions, Mike still feels a tinge of shame, of awkwardness, and is compelled to defend himself; to offer up an excuse of sorts. "A few years back, my girlfriend at the time would make me watch it with her. I guess it kinda grew on me."

"And now you love it."

Mike nods.

"Well, life will do that to you sometimes. Throw you a curve ball when you least expect it and something you never thought you'd like ends up being something you can't live without."

There's not one trace of sarcasm in Alex's voice and Mike can't believe how refreshing it is to not be judged for enjoying a show most guys wouldn't watch, much less admit to watching. He lets out a type of laugh that's meant to release tension. Playfully, he pushes Alex's shoulder, a calmness washing over him.

"So, what's it about?" Alex asks, gesturing to the screen.

Mike's eyes light up and throughout the commercial break and every commercial break, he runs down the list of all the characters and recaps their current storylines until Alex feels like he's already seen the show.

As the final scene is coming to a close, the background music becomes more and more prominent. Mike smiles. "I love this song."

"Oh!" Alex exclaims, slapping Mike's knee. "I meant to ask you about the concert."

Mike turns to face him, grinning from ear to ear. "It was incredible."

"Good," Alex says, smiling just as bright. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Thanks."

Alex waits a few extra seconds in case Mike wants to elaborate on anything in particular and when he doesn't, he's surprised he didn't express a greater appreciation for the tickets. But if he's honest with himself, he didn't want the guy to make a huge deal out of it anyway. Didn't want to risk getting into a discussion about why he couldn't go with him, not to mention how stupid he still feels for letting Edge's joke get to him the way it did. Nope, no use in rehashing something he can't change. He's just happy his friend enjoyed himself on his 30th birthday and got to have an experience he'll never forget. "You're welcome."

After a long stretch of silence between the two, Mike gets up to turn off the tv and then sits back down next to Alex. "This was nice. I liked being able to share this with you. I never get to talk about it with anyone."

"It's kind of weird you thought you had to hide it from me."

Mike chews on the inside of his bottom lip. Even though he's let a few tidbits slip here and there over the course of their friendship, he's really not used to talking about his personal life with anyone, he's always tried to keep that part of himself guarded. But Alex really has proven to be the most trustworthy person he's ever known. He _wants_ to confide in him, so… "Maryse always gives me a hard time about it." Mike rolls his eyes, it all sounds so pathetic when he says it out loud. "I guess I thought you would, too."

"Not over a tv show," Alex winks. "Y'know, for someone who's always lecturing me about being myself, I'm surprised you care so much."

"Of what you think of me?"

Alex shrugs. "Not just me, but Maryse, too…or _anyone_ for that matter."

Mike shifts his weight on the bed, suddenly feeling cornered and the signal his body language sends doesn't go unnoticed by Alex.

"Maybe it's just insecurities from high school or somethin'," Alex jests, trying to take the pressure off, to give Mike an easy out of the conversation if he wants it.

"Well, y'know, I was only president of the yearbook so I could make sure I was on every page."

"No way."

"True story." They both have a good laugh and Mike feels at ease again. "But I played sports, too, had tons of friends, but I dunno…I still always felt like I had to prove that I belonged."

"Why?"

Mike doesn't need a psychologist to tell him that his insecurities stem from his childhood. He was an only child and when his parents got divorced he was too young to understand that it wasn't his fault. And of course there was the relentless teasing from his classmates during that awkward stage he went through; he never thought he'd grow into his looks and it took him the whole of high school before he built up a decent amount of confidence - in large part due to his involvement in sports. All in all, the impact of those things has stayed with him and once in a while, usually when he's at his most vulnerable, it manages to seep through.

Not being used to revealing his innermost truths and now feeling self-conscious after only sharing a glimpse, Mike retreats, lending weight to the well-known adage - that old habits _are_ hard to break. "It doesn't matter why, but it's a good thing, because basically, that mentality got me to where I am today and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"I get that, but you put up with a lot of shit out there and from the way I see it, you should be able to watch whatever the hell you want without your girlfriend of all people, gettin' on your case about it."

Deep down, Mike agrees, but he doesn't feel comfortable having someone else come in and shine a spotlight on that aspect of his life. There's an urge in him to wrap a bubble around his relationship with Maryse, to protect it from outsiders, hold on tight. "I'm lucky to have her."

"You think _you're_ the lucky one?"

"Of course," Mike snaps, not picking up on the underlying compliment. "Have you seen her? You know how many guys would give their left nut to be with a girl like that?"

"And apparently, some more than that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just…" Alex shakes his head, instantly deciding to take another route. "Is that why you stay with her, because other guys like her?"

"That's ridiculous." Mike glares at Alex, trying to figure out his angle. "I stay with her because she's-"

"Part of your image."

"No!" Mike's outraged by such a low blow. "She has nothing to do with my image."

"But you _have_ created one for yourself."

Mike finds himself a bit tongue tied. He's never been called out like this before; not in such a direct, completely exposed way. He wants to deny the accusation and do what he always does when confronted with a subject he'd rather not discuss. He wants to hurl snide remarks at his challenger; be offensive, insulting, degrading. He wants to be immature and irrational and talk so fast that Alex can't get a word in edgewise, dominate the dialogue until the topic at hand fades into obscurity. But that's exactly why he can't resort to his default setting – _because_ it's Alex, and there's something in the way the man's looking at him that makes it impossible to treat him the way he would anyone else.

So, he concedes, still frustrated, but keeping his emotions in check. "You got me. I've put a certain image of myself out there for people to see. But that's because I want them to see that I'm successful. I want them to see that I made it, that I did what I set out to do. I'm not ashamed of that."

"I'm not saying you should be."

"Then what's the problem?" Mike jumps to his feet, his anger breaking free from its constraints.

Alex is frustrated, doesn't understand why Mike can't see how wrong Maryse is for him. "It's just…"

"It's just what?" Mike hovers over the instigator, trying to intimidate him. "Say it!"

Alex rises to his feet, feels more confident saying exactly what he's thinking with the extra two inches he has over Mike, not to mention, the extra twenty pounds. "I mean, from the outside you have everything, right? From the designer suits, to the stereotypical condo in L.A., that you _never_ see, right down to the biggest cliché of them all. She's straight out of a twelve year old's wet dream for Christ's sake!"

Mike scowls. He's furious and confused at how an innocent conversation took such a nasty turn down a path rife with personal insults. He no longer considers it to be a challenge, but an attack on his integrity, his character.

"You're livin' the fuckin' dream, man!"

"And what's so goddamned wrong with that? I've worked my ass off for everything! _I've earned_ _everything_! Don't I deserve nice things? Don't I deserve someone as beautiful as Maryse? Jesus." Mike shifts his weight to his right side as if he's going to turn away and then he snaps right back towards Alex. "I'll tell you what I don't deserve," he barks. "I sure as fuck don't deserve an ignorant punk like you, who doesn't even have a girlfriend, by the way! lecturing me on how I live my life!"

Alex takes a step backwards as if Mike has shoved him, but he hasn't, not physically. It's a step back out of courtesy, out of a sudden realization. He crossed a line he never meant to approach. "I'm sorry," he says, his eyes filled with a sincere emotion that expresses just how contrite he really is, and Mike recognizes it. "I honestly don't know why I went off on you like that."

Mike collapses onto the bed, hunches over feeling completely drained and somehow _lighter_, whereas Alex swims in an ocean of regret. He's disappointed in himself for emotionally pummeling someone who's been nothing but kind to him, who's put everything on the line for him.

"I'm such an asshole. I tell you I'm not gonna give you a hard time and then that's exactly what I do."

Mike looks up to Alex and cracks a sympathetic smile, his eyes still reflecting sadness though. "But not about a tv show," he chuckles weakly, irony in tow. He's not one to ever allow himself to come across as a push-over, but right now it's more important to him that the night doesn't end on a sour note, especially not with Alex. As much as he enjoys a good fight, whether it be physical or verbal, there's nothing he's hated more in his life than what just went down between him and his friend. Although he did nothing wrong, he feels filthy, from the inside out, in a way no shower could remedy.

Alex breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Seeing Mike smile at him after what he just put him through is tantamount to a time machine transporting him back through the disastrous layers of their blow out, to the way it was before he tried to swallow his feet. "Don't listen to me," he says. "Don't listen to anyone else for that matter. The world's full of assholes, like yours truly, and they'll convince themselves that they know what's best for you and judge you for who you choose to spend your life with, but in the end, it's up to you. If you're happy then to hell with everyone else."

Mike continues smiling at Alex, appreciates his sincerity.

"She makes you happy?" Alex nods his head, thinking that Mike will mirror his movement and that'll be that. They can move on and forget about the whole stupid argument, but Mike doesn't move, not even a twitch. He just sits there, looking up at Alex as if the concept is alien.

"Because, that's how you know it's right. Strip away everything on the surface - compatibility and attraction, success, status and everything else and what's left is the most basic thing anyone could hope for: to be happy. That's what I've always thought anyway, that the person you're with should make you happy."

Alex glances off to the side with a subdued smile, not thinking so much of a previous relationship, but to one he hopes to find one day.

"She cheers you up with the sound of her voice and makes you wanna get up in the morning, and then once you've started the day, you can't wait for it to be over because you know you're gonna get right back into bed with her. You can talk to her about anything, and she's the person you actually _want_ to tell _everything_ to and even if she doesn't understand, or can't relate, she'll listen to it all because it's coming from you, and she makes you feel as comfortable with her as you do with your own reflection, and maybe even more so."

Alex realizes that he managed to get lost in his idealistic words and when he looks back down at Mike, he sees that his friend is hanging onto every single one of them. It's hardly his intention to manipulate the guy, but he can't pass up the opportunity to give him something to think about as far as his relationship with Maryse is concerned, because ever since he handed that woman those concert tickets, he's had an uneasy feeling he can't shake.

"She'd never be critical of you because…" Alex leans in just a little and lowers his voice like he's divulging classified information. "In her eyes, there's nothing to criticize. You'd know that she makes you happy because all you'll want to do is make her as happy as she makes you."

Mike swallows thickly. He stunned. A numbness takes over his body. Maryse doesn't fulfill any of the requirements Alex listed off, and she should.

"I better go," Alex says, straightening his posture. "We're cool though?" He reaches down and grabs onto Mike's shoulder to make sure the guy is listening.

The numbness Mike was feeling vanishes. He looks up to Alex and nods, barely. He feels the heat of Alex's hand burning a hole through the fabric of his shirt and right down to his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him leaving and when the door clicks into place, he brings his hand up to his shoulder and holds it where it still burns. He sits there, running through the bullet points Alex recited and suddenly, he's hit with a debilitating pain in his stomach and a localized ache in his chest when he realizes that every _she_ should have been a _he_.


	8. Distraction

08. Distraction

"Mike!" Alex yells his partner's name over and over, his arm stretched out in front of him. Mike looks to Alex desperately as his former tag team partner locks him in his patented submission maneuver. Somehow, Mike finds the strength to kick out of it and tag his current partner in. Alex rushes towards Morrison and kicks him in the gut. His opponent falls to his knees and Alex capitalizes on his position and delivers an impressive DDT to the guy, allowing him to cover the parkour expert as Mike looks on.

Mike stands in the corner, recuperating as John kicks out at the count of two. This is the first time Alex has been in a proper match since their personal services storyline has gone into effect and he can't take his eyes off his protégé. He thinks back to when they were partners on NXT and how well they worked together. The pressure of the competition back then was immense, even though it was on a smaller platform than they're on now. They might be on the most prestigious stage pro-wrestling has to offer, but they have a sense of security that wasn't there before. They have an actual storyline and they know what's expected of them. Ironically, the atmosphere is more relaxed, perhaps too relaxed.

Things start to grow quiet around Mike as he watches Alex and John square off. He sees Daniel Bryan on the other side of the ring but he's almost a blur, just as the commentators and the audience and even John appear to be. Only Alex remains in focus and then suddenly there's nothing.

It's a stark contrast of black and white - the arena shrouded in darkness while the bright spotlight shines down on an empty ring. Mike stands on the apron alone. He's confused, doesn't understand where everyone went and why the match stopped before a winner was declared. Just then he feels a warm hand making its way up his leg. But he isn't startled because he instinctively knows who it is. It's Alex on the floor behind him, reaching up. He pulls himself up onto the apron, kneeling beside Mike, pulling him closer by his hip and kissing his exposed thigh.

There's a flash of light that seems to beam them to the center of the isolated ring. There's not a single thing in Mike that wants Alex to stop, so when Alex leans in, Mike embraces him fully. Runs his fingers through soft hair and then down the man's smooth body as they kiss. The action releasing a particular kind of tension that had been building up in him for weeks.

Another flash and the men are lying on the mat.

Alex breaks away from the kiss to make his way down Mike's muscular chest, his mouth paying special attention to each erogenous zone along the way until he's met with the waistband of tight, elastic trunks. Mike lifts himself up just enough, allowing Alex the wherewithal to release him from the pesky confines. Mike is free for no longer than a second, his apprentice wasting no time.

Alex holds Mike's hips down, pinning him to the mat in a very different way than he's used to. He runs his wet tongue from the base of Mike's aching erection up to the tip, teasing the sensitive flesh momentarily and then he plunges down on Mike, engulfing as much of him as he can in his hot, salivating mouth. His tongue making swift revolutions around his mentor as he's pulling away.

"Alex," Mike groans, squirming under the man's strong hold. He lifts his head ever so briefly before his head rolls back, his eyes following suit as he loses all the strength he had, his body surging with tingling heat from head to toe.

"Mike," Alex whispers seductively in between suckling kisses. "Mike," he says louder, more forceful. "Mike!"

And with that Mike's transported back to the deafening arena where he sees Alex trying to tag him in. "Shit," he mouths, reflexively extending an arm, but the lights are so bright he has trouble spotting his partner. After swatting the air on his first attempt, he finally connects with the second. Still disoriented, his boot gets caught on the middle rope, causing him to stumble into the ring, almost falling flat on his face. He staggers towards Daniel, who flips him over with a perfectly executed German suplex and pins him without hesitation.

Mike sees flashes of light again, but this time there's no fantasy accompanying them. It's just the pounding of his head as the ref hits the mat. One. Two. Three. And the match is over.

"What the hell was that?" The US Champion is sure to whisper his question through a clenched jaw so only Mike can hear, but he doesn't have time to wait for any kind of response, just jumps to his feet to claim his stolen victory over his former NXT pro.

Mike covers his face. He's had a string of losses in recent weeks; most notably at _Bragging Rights_. Though the match was unrehearsed and mostly improvised, the end result was determined ahead of time. Because of that, it came as no surprise when he was the only surviving member left on his team. Although admittedly disappointed when he first found out, he had come to accept the fact that he would be the reason why his team lost, but what he never could've predicted was what would happen leading up to his defeat.

Even though he was ultimately going to lose, Mike felt an elevated degree of confidence with Alex at ringside. He wasn't part of the match, but he did manage to assist his mentor's team whenever he could.

By the end of the main event, Mike found himself being catapulted across the ring, his upper body slung through the ropes like wet clothes hanging out to dry, his knees falling heavy to the mat. His opponent had effectively set him up for his most popular and devastating method of attack.

Just as Mike was psychologically preparing himself for a blow to the face, Alex unexpectedly jumped onto the apron and wrapped him up in a protective hug, taking the hit to the back of his own head. Mike was stunned, mesmerized as he watched Alex plummet to the ground below. He had no idea what could have compelled the guy to sacrifice himself like that, and because of his racing mind - and racing heart - he couldn't concentrate on the rest of the match.

As the fallen superstar lies in the center of the ring, his hands covering his face, he looks back on that match, glad he was meant to lose it, because otherwise, he has a feeling that match would have ended similar to the way this one has.

All of a sudden, a spark shoots through his exhausted body. It feels amazing, rejuvenating. He realizes Alex is coiling an arm under one if his own, helping him up. He's almost too afraid to look at his friend; can't bear to see the disappointment on the guy's face. What was supposed to be Alex's first win on the big stage is no more than a complete disaster and Mike knows it's all his fault. He's forced to listen to the audience cheering his opponents, while he and his partner silently make their way backstage.

Alex grabs a couple towels as they make their way through the staging area. Drapes one over Mike's head, shuffling his hand playfully. "What happened out there, man?"

Mike's cheeks burn from humiliation, wants to hide under the towel forever. "I-" Luckily for Mike, a shout from down the corridor saves him from having to explain himself.

Alex turns to Cody and Mike peeks at the man from under the towel. Lowers his head in shame again and then drops the towel to his shoulders, wanting to preserve some smidgen of dignity.

"You wanna grab some drinks?"

Alex immediately looks to Mike with a charming smile, taps his arm with the back of his hand. "Wanna get some drinks?"

Mike looks to Alex and then to Cody, knows the invitation wasn't directed towards him. "I don't think so."

"Oh…" Alex is conflicted. He looks to Cody and then to Mike again, like he's being pulled in two directions.

"Don't let me stop you. I'll catch up with ya later." Mike says this knowing full well he'll see Alex when he comes to his room to hang out - a routine visit he finds himself looking forward to more and more each night.

Alex reaches out and grabs Mike's bicep affectionately. "You sure?"

"Go, have fun," Mike insists with a nervous chuckle and a tilt of his head. He's still embarrassed and would rather be alone anyway. Plus, it'll give him time to come up with some kind of excuse as to what happened when Alex inevitably asks him again later.

Alex forces an insincere smile. "See ya," he mutters awkwardly as he drags his feet towards Cody.

Mike resumes in the opposite direction and can't help but glance back at Alex walking away from him. There's something about the sight of it all that makes him feel uneasy.

**xxxx**

Alex collects the remote control from the nightstand in Mike's room. Bounces on the foot of the bed a few times to get comfortable and starts flipping through the channels; night after night, happily succumbing to the same routine.

To hide his nerves, Mike keeps himself busy by organizing his suitcase. "Did you have fun with Cody?" He tries to come across as nonchalant as possible. In his heart of hearts, he hopes Alex did have fun, but at the same time, _he doesn't_.

Alex shrugs, eyes still focused on the tv. "Eh, I'd rather hang out with you."

Mike's eyes dart up towards Alex. That certainly wasn't the answer he expected to hear. The starry-eyed superstar wishes he could ask Alex to repeat himself just so he could hear those words again, but of course he doesn't, because he can't. His gaze remains fixated on his channel surfing friend. On the outside, Mike emotes a calmness, even though quite the opposite is transpiring on the inside. He bites his lower lip, wanting to bite his tongue, but curiosity gets the better of him. "Even though I lost us the match tonight?"

With this, Alex turns off the tv and shifts his weight on the bed, turning his attention to Mike. "Yeah, so what the hell happened out there?"

Mike realizes he liked it better when the tv was on. Now it's too quiet and it feels like the eyes of the _whole world_ are upon him. "Sorry about that, bud. I guess I just got distracted."

"By what? Was there a hot chick in the front row or somethin'?"

Mike chuckles at the irony of the question and shakes his head.

"Well, what was it then?" Alex scoots towards Mike, curious as to what could have distracted him so much that it cost him a match against two of his biggest rivals.

Mike takes a deep breath, his heart racing full speed ahead. He's been waiting weeks for an opportunity to confess his feelings for Alex. If only so he can deal with rejection sooner rather than later; to accept that he's experiencing some kind of momentary glitch that's disguising itself as infatuation for someone who'll never reciprocate those feelings in return. Finally, it seems like such an opportunity has presented itself. "It was you."

Alex immediately gets up, looks more worried than Mike has ever seen him. "Fuck. I knew it. I'm screwing everything up. Mike, you have to know this job means everything to me. I can't-"

Mike steps closer to Alex and places his hands on the guy's shoulders to calm him down. "No. Shit, no. That's not what I meant. You're fine. You're doing great." Mike stands there less than an arm's length away from Alex, eyes shifting from deep blue to deep blue and down to the mouth that brought him so much pleasure in his fantasy. It's now or never.

"I-" Mike gulps. His nerves start to overtake him, and suddenly, he realizes he doesn't want to be rejected. He doesn't want his feelings for Alex to go away. Maybe if there was a chance he'd feel the same way, the risk would be worth it, but he doesn't see how that could be possible. Though he'll still be alone in his emotional struggle, he opts to retreat back into the darkness where his secret hides; where he knows he'll be safe. "I get distracted when you call me Mike." It pains him to admit this fabricated truth. If anything, Alex saying his name gives him more confidence. Somehow…no, Mike knows exactly how, the original excuse he came up with has managed to escape him and this is the only thing he can think of in such an intense moment.

Alex frowns. "It does?"

"You calling me Mike is confusing, I forget where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing."

"I do all that just by saying your name?" Alex's cheeks turn a subtle shade of rose petal pink and Mike doesn't notice because he's concerned with the reddening of his own cheeks, and the burning of the tips of his ears, like they're on fire. If only Alex knew the kind of affect he really has on him!

"How would you like it if I called you _Kevin_ out there, ripping you out of character every ten seconds?"

Alex exhales sharply. "I get it. It's pretty much why I prefer being called Alex. It won't happen again."

Mike is disgusted with himself, this is the first time he's ever out and out lied to Alex and he hates the way it makes him feel. And he hates the way he's just made his friend feel. "Hey, it's not a big deal."

Alex looks up to Mike with hopeful eyes. "Yeah?"

"C'mon, there must be _something_ we can watch," Mike says, trying to lighten the mood.

The pair manage to find a scary movie neither have had time to watch. Alex falls asleep towards the end, Mike only realizing it when he goes to shut off the tv. After what he's put the guy through tonight, he doesn't have the heart to wake him and he really doesn't see the need to since Maryse is gallivanting around town with Kelly, never any telling when she'll be back. So, instead, he moves to the couch and watches Alex's silhouette rise and fall in the darkness until his own eyes grow too heavy to stay open.


	9. Under the Influence

09. Under the Influence

Alex walks heavy-footed and light-headed down an icy corridor. Everything's a blur of colorless haze, not unlike the walls of the arenas he performs in, but he knows he's not at the arena; it's much more confined. He's dizzy but he detects a presence next to him, one that he doesn't recognize. He's not moving by his own accord and this concerns him. Ah, there's a pressure clamping around his bicep, and his tricep. That presence, it's a bit clearer now. Someone's escorting him by his upper arm and then he feels pain in both of his wrists. As he staggers to an unknown destination, he hears random shouts, but he can't pinpoint where they're coming from or even what's being said. It seems like the noise is all around him, surrounding him, but the loudness and confusion could just be attributed to his current state of disorientation - in actuality, the atmosphere isn't as loud as he perceives it to be.

He's an older man, relegated mostly to desk duty. It's his job to do the booking and processing when someone is arrested and right now, that someone is Alex Riley.

The officer nudges Alex into an empty cell, removes his handcuffs and slides the noisy door into place, locking it with a set of jingling keys - the cartoonish kind only ever seen used by creepy janitors in old movies.

"Wait," Alex says grabbing onto the bars. "Don't I get a phone call?"

"You just made it."

Alex furrows his brow. "Who'd I call?"

"It's not my job to know, kid."

"Great," Alex mumbles sarcastically, his body going limp as he realizes he's in jail, and that he has no idea how long he'll have to wait to be bailed out, or even _if_ he'll be bailed out at all.

He cowers in the corner, only the courtesy of a wooden bench to keep him from having to sit on the cold concrete floor. He'd love nothing more than to curl up in his own bed and escape the train wreck of a night he can only assume he must've had. And why didn't he just go home in the first place? It's not like he couldn't have, what with the company taping the latest episode of Smackdown in Tampa just a handful of hours earlier. Nope, instead, he chose to get blasted, and as the effects of the alcohol start wearing off and a raging headache sets in, a timeline of events that led him to where he is, comes into focus.

In hindsight, everything was going so well, and perhaps that should've been an indicator that Alex was about to sabotage it all. It's been two months since he started appearing regularly on WWE's flagship show, Monday Night Raw, and already he's been in the ring with top tier talent: trading jabs with the likes of Edge and going one on one with John Cena. Just last night he had a match with the polarizing superstar and it didn't even matter that he lost because he was in the spotlight; millions of eyes were on him. It was exposure on a level that wrestlers spend their entire careers working towards and never achieving. Yet, Alex Riley was there.

He remembers Mike outside the ring, pounding his fists on the apron, dutifully cheering on his protégé. Even though the guy already knew the predetermined outcome, he played his role convincingly, just as Alex did, but something happened after the match was over that didn't feel much like acting anymore.

Alex rolled to the ropes just as Mike was climbing into the ring and as he dropped his feet to the floor, he felt Mike's fingers running through his hair. The caring mentor placed his other hand on top of Alex's head and grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging slightly. When Alex rolled over, Mike's hands were suddenly on his face, caressing him in the most soothing way.

Alex drops his face into his hands as he remembers the moment. Much like the non-existent conversation after Edge's gay joke a month earlier, there was no discussion about this incident either. He was too embarrassed to confront Mike about it. The last thing he would ever want to do is embarrass his friend. He doesn't even know what he would've said anyway. Anything would have sounded accusatory or at the very least, be misinterpreted.

Fast forward twelve hours and there he was in Mike's hotel room as the guy was breaking the big news to him. "It's official. I'm cashing in my contract next Monday. I'm gonna pin Orton and become WWE Champion." Mike was unusually calm for such a big announcement. It was obvious he was trying to hold back his excitement. Probably for fear of jinxing the whole thing straight to hell.

Alex congratulated his friend and he really did want to be happy for him, but something stood in his way. Something was holding back his excitement, in much the same way Mike was suppressing his own.

It took him a minute before he realized what he was feeling. It was resentment. Not towards Mike, but towards the title. Mike wouldn't need him anymore once he won it. It would replace him. Champions don't have sidekicks. They don't have protégés. They don't share the spotlight. There's only one thing a champion cares about and it's made of leather and gold - not NXT rejects.

Alex feels a knot form in the pit of his stomach as he sits in the corner of his cell. It feels very similar to what he experienced earlier in the day when Mike was talking to him about the new path he'd be traveling down as the face of the company. What made it worse is that he never mentioned Alex's name, never mentioned what would happen to him and the role he'd play. But then again, he didn't have to.

Alex whispers to himself. "Kelly?" He sees a flash of the platinum blonde diva zip through his mind and then the flash turns into a full-fledged memory. He grimaces as he recollects the evening's events.

It was backstage after the Smackdown taping. Mike had invited him to celebrate his impending victory at a local club. But after the way the guy touched him the night before on Raw, how could he say anything other than no? So, that's what he did - he turned down the invitation. By then, his emotions were swirling around. Nothing made a lick of sense. He was mad at Mike for the way he touched him, he was mad at creative for cutting his time in the spotlight short, he was mad at himself for being so mad. He just needed an escape, so when Kelly approached him, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"Hey, stud," the diva said flirtatiously, running her hand over Alex's arm.

Alex flinched at the way Kelly touched him. It made him uncomfortable, the complete opposite of how Mike's touch made him feel. So naturally, it made him all the more receptive to the woman's advances.

"I'd love to show you a good time tonight," she offered suggestively, her voice changing pitch. It was lower than usual and Alex could tell what she was doing and he was grateful for it.

"Yeah, why not."

"Really?" Kelly was surprised and it caught Alex off guard. "I figured you'd be tied up with your man."

Alex was instantly offended. "My man?"

"Yeah. Miz. Ring a bell? You two are practically attached at the hip."

Alex looked Kelly over. Wondered what the hell she was getting at, but figured it might be better to pretend like he was oblivious to her insinuations. "Well, not tonight."

"Good. You're driving."

Alex shakes his head, his memories becoming all too vivid. He barely recognizes the man he sees walking to the parking lot hand in hand with the most promiscuous diva on the roster. He can't believe he'd go as far as having sex with someone he barely knows, not to mention, barely likes, just to prove some kind point to himself.

He opened the passenger side door for Kelly - remembering what it felt like to do something for a woman, remembering how to be chivalrous - but when he walked around to the driver's side, the woman had been quick to scoot over in front of the steering wheel while he wasn't looking.

"What are you doing?" Alex shouted through the thick plated glass and all Kelly did was give a tilt of her head, signaling him to go sit on the other side. Rather than get anymore upset and cause a scene, Alex went with the flow and sat in the passenger seat. He looked out the window, his elbow propped up beside him, his fingers grazing his lower lip, wondering if it would even be worth it and without warning he felt pressure, and localized excitement. "What are you doing?" He grabbed hold of Kelly's hand and for a split second he wondered if those were the only words he knew anymore.

Kelly put her finger up to Alex's lips. "Shhh, I told you I'm gonna make you feel good," she whispered, and then she replaced her finger with her mouth. It had been a long time since Alex tasted lipstick on his tongue and he quickly realized that he never really liked it at all. Needless to say, it was a relief when Kelly pulled away and put her mouth to another use. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Alex leaned his back against the headrest as she pulled him out of the suffocating denim. He didn't necessarily have a need to watch the woman work but in his mind he could still see what was happening and to his surprise, it had nothing to do with the diva. It didn't even involve a woman.

In a sudden burst, Alex opened his eyes. "Stop it!" he demanded as he pushed Kelly off of him.

"Are you serious?" She sneered at him as she wiped saliva from the corner of her mouth. "I haven't even gotten to the best part."

"I don't care!" Alex immediately tucked himself back in and fixed his jeans.

"Jerk," Kelly scowled and then she reached for his keys.

Alex tried to grab them from the woman. "That's enough-"

"No!" she whined, yanking them away. "Now I don't have a ride so we're gonna go where I wanna go and then you can have your damned keys back!"

Alex keeps trying to go forward with his vision of the night but his mind keeps flickering back to the image of Mike pleasuring him. He can't stop seeing it and he doesn't know why. For a few unencumbered seconds, he gives himself permission to think about it, to elaborate on it, but then he's in the parking lot of a nightclub he used to frequent in his FCW days, and the anger he felt towards Kelly as she took the keys out of the ignition and ran to the entrance, overpowers his secret musing.

"Bitch," he muttered and followed her inside.

Alex walked around the club. He pushed his way through a sea of rambunctious twenty-somethings jumping around and he almost wanted to stop and show them a thing or two about real dancing, but that wasn't what he was there for. He was looking for his keys.

After a few minutes, his method of searching proved to be a bust, so he went over to the bar in order to watch from a stationary viewpoint instead. It was then that he realized how thirsty he had become so he ordered a coke. He sipped the beverage as he scouted the club in search of the troublemaking diva.

Finally, he spotted Kelly and just as he took a step forward to go confront the woman and get his keys back, he saw Mike and the sight of that man stopped him dead in his tracks. It never occurred to him that Kelly brought him to the same club Mike had invited him to, but something inside of him was happy that she did. As he stared at Mike, the tension melted away; he felt weightless and _breathing_ was easy again.

Alex wasn't aware of it but a smile dared to spread across his mouth as he watched his friend. Mike wasn't doing anything particularly special, just standing on the outside of a booth, looking down to the table, maybe at the tip he was leaving, maybe at something else - Alex couldn't peel his eyes away from Mike long enough to find out. But in just _being there_, Mike's presence seemed to strike a type of _awe_ in Alex that set a new standard for his life. Everything around him faded away and if he could've formed thoughts, it wouldn't have mattered. They would've all been jumbled; an incoherent gaggle of abstract feelings he wasn't yet meant to decipher anyway. He watched Mike for a length of time he'll never be able to measure accurately and then someone else entered the frame and the whole picture expanded into a busy panoramic view again.

Alex scowled, severely disappointed, the emotion veering towards anger. "Maryse?" He didn't realize Maryse was going to be with Mike. An unidentified jealously boiled up within him and he wondered if Mike had known his girlfriend was going to be around when he invited him out earlier.

"No, it's Eliese," a pleasant, yet unexpected voice said, pulling Alex away from the inner dialogue he'd been having with himself.

Alex turned towards the woman with an attitude. "What?"

"My name, it's Eliese," she reiterated, introducing herself for a second time.

"Oh…" Alex glanced back to Mike and then his focus bounced between Maryse and Kelly and then back to his present company. He didn't appreciate being interrupted by either Maryse _or_ Eliese and he wanted to make sure Kelly didn't leave with his keys. But Eliese didn't know she was interfering with anything so Alex was polite. He introduced himself and predictably, the beautiful brunette wondered where she knew him from. "I'm a wrestler," he answered.

"Ah, I thought maybe you played football."

"You like football?" Alex couldn't help asking because he finds it hard not to talk about the sport when it's brought up in conversation.

"I love it. I actually play."

"What?" Alex smiled, clearly impressed and feeling much more relaxed.

"I'm on a lingerie football league," Eliese giggled. "Next time you're in town you should come to a game."

For some reason, Alex was compelled to look back at Mike. He was worried. He didn't know why, but deep down it felt like he was being forced into making a choice.

His gaze lasted a bit too long for Eliese and she could only imagine that Alex was looking at the woman whose name was on his lips when she first introduced herself. "Well, no pressure. Maybe I'll run into you again some time."

Alex detected a trace of disappointment in the woman's voice. He could tell that he hurt her feelings and he felt guilty for not giving her his undivided attention, but it didn't bother him for long. Just as Eliese was turning to leave, Alex noticed Mike, Maryse and Kelly walking in his direction. He immediately turned towards the bar, leaning against it. He brought his hand up to the side of his face shielding himself from the trio, trying to hide himself so Mike wouldn't see him and it worked. He turned his head towards the exit and watched longingly as Mike left arm in arm with his girlfriend.

"Loser," Kelly whispered into Alex's ear and it startled him. She topped off the insult by dropping his keys into his glass of soda.

Alex stared at his drowning keys until they settled on the bottom and then signaled the bartender to get him something stronger, something strong enough so maybe _he_ could drown, too. He drank more than he ever did at any frat party and the way he staggered out of the club should have told him he wasn't fit to drive, but he did and now he's been arrested, and the job he was afraid of losing is most definitely hanging in the balance.

Remembering everything that led him to where he is now certainly doesn't make anything better. He risked everything tonight: his reputation, his job, his friendship with Mike-

_Mike._

Suddenly, it hits him. It's a fear like he's never known before. Mike's going to find out what he did and he'll hate him for it. And losing Mike isn't something Alex could ever recover from. He needs him and-

In this moment of introspection, of honest self-reflection, Alex realizes a truth that had been evading him, buried in the deepest part of himself. It's a truth he didn't know was there, or was too scared to face, but after everything that's happened, he has no choice but to confront it.

It was the feeling he chose to ignore when he was eliminated from NXT. It was what he felt after he talked himself out of going to the concert with Mike. It was what he felt when Mike told him he was distracting him. And it was present when Mike told him he was going to be the next WWE Champion.

It was never about losing his job or having the spotlight taken away from him. It was about losing _Mike_, it was about losing the light this man has brought into his life and the thought of losing someone who means so much to him had paralyzed him with complete and utter fear - to the point of self-destruction.

His eyes start watering the more he thinks about Mike and about how he's let the guy down. Not only by turning him down tonight, but by hooking up with Kelly and entangling himself in a situation he never should have been in - in a situation that will reflect back onto Mike, and at the most crucial point in his career.

With that, he asks himself why he should care so much, why hurting Mike sickens him worse than the hangover he'll experience in the morning. He's on the verge of pinpointing the reason when an officer rattles the set of keys against the bars as he unlocks the door. Alex looks up as the door slides open and it isn't a cop he sees. It's Mike. He's sure the cop must be there, but it's just like what happened in the club earlier: tunnel vision.

It's as if a great gust of wind rushes towards Alex, swirling through him, collecting all the confusion he's been experiencing regarding his friend. From the way he felt when Mike touched him, to his inability to attend a concert with him; from his resentment towards Maryse and his lack of interest in Eliese, right down to his inexplicable vision of the man during his brief sexual encounter with Kelly. All of that confusion he felt is swept away and there's a new feeling left in its wake. Or rather, an old feeling that's finally being identified.

What Alex feels now is something he's always shrugged off as indebtedness to a friend for saving his job and being a mentor. It's always been classified as a type of appreciation, or even obligated loyalty. However, in a moment of perfect clarity, one that he's never felt before in his entire life, Alex realizes it's none of those things. It's _love_, and in its most purest and concentrated form. There's no escaping it. There's no denying it. He's in love with Mike.

**xxxx**

Mike pulls up outside of Alex's apartment and turns off the engine. There's a long moment of silence and now that the car is no longer running, the atmosphere is even heavier than it was during the ride from the station.

"Alex-"

"Mike, I'm so sorry," Alex interrupts. "I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to fuck things up for you. If McMahon doesn't-"

"You think that's what I care about?!" Mike's voice breaks, his emotions far too close to the surface. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you tonight? You could have hurt yourself, or worse. You could have hurt someone else!"

Alex exhales sharply. Of all the things he thought about while waiting to be released, he never took into consideration how lucky he was to be sitting there at all and by the pain in Mike's voice, he can tell that he _has_ hurt someone else. "I'm sorry."

Mike takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He doesn't want to break down again, not in front of Alex. It's one of the reasons why he was so late getting down to the station; he needed time to pull himself together after hearing the pain and fear in the guy's voice when he called asking for help. He needed time to pull it together after realizing things could have ended much differently. He might never have heard that voice again. And even after he prepared himself for the sight, it's been a test of true grit on his part. From the second he saw Alex slouched over in that cell, he's wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the guy, to hold him tight and praise the heavens above that he's safe, but he knows he can't do that. He'll just have to settle on showing his support in another way, in a way a mentor and a friend would. "What happened, Alex? You told me you weren't going out tonight."

Alex can't tell Mike the truth, but he does owe him an explanation, so he decides on one that's as close to the truth as he can get. "I was afraid that once you became the champ, there wouldn't be any room left for me. You wouldn't want me to take up any of your spotlight. I guess I went over the rails."

Mike furrows his brow. Feels a twinge of disgust in his gut at hearing Alex say those words - and thinking that he could actually mean them. "Have I ever said or done anything to make you think that?"

Alex shakes his head and through his sadness he can't help but feel a sense of relief in hearing Mike lay waste to those misguided assumptions. "You must be so disappointed in me."

Mike sighs. "We all make mistakes we wish we could take back," he says empathetically. "But Alex, you have to understand where you are. You're in the big leagues now. People get fired for doing a lot less than what you just did. This isn't a game."

Alex turns towards his friend. "I know, Mike. It's never gonna happen again. I promise."

"_I_ believe you," Mike nods, "but it's not up to me. My opinion doesn't matter."

Alex wishes he could tell Mike that his is the _only_ opinion that matters, but he remains silent.

"I spoke to Vince before I picked you up."

Alex shifts in his seat, becoming visibly anxious.

"I had to. I had to tell him what happened and make a case for you before he made any rash decisions and if he had it his way, you'd…be staying here, counting your blessings you still had FCW to fall back on. His words, not mine." Mike conveys Vince's message with a degree of sensitivity he was not afforded when talking to his boss earlier. "But since Monday is a huge day for me and you're an integral part of the story, he agreed to fine you, and put the whole mess in the rearview."

"He said that?" Alex asks in disbelief.

Mike nods, watches as Alex buries his face in his hands and he can tell how grateful the guy is, but there's no way he'd know all the reasons why. By the way Alex stifles back his tears, Mike can also tell how remorseful he is. He reaches out and affectionately squeezes the back of Alex's neck as he blinks back his own tears.


	10. Nerves

10. Nerves

A glistening layer of sweat coats Alex's body. He's out of breath, adrenaline pumping hard, and when he notices Mike walking towards him, he's grateful he can blame his appearance on an early morning workout and _not_ on the effect his friend has on him.

In an instant, Alex finds himself being pulled towards Mike with an added spring in each step. His toes cling to the floor for just a fraction of a second longer than they should while his body pushes him forward. His movement falls just short of actual skipping and he has to literally tell himself to fucking relax. It's a hard command for his body to learn around Mike though, especially when they're alone.

"Hey, bud," Mike greets with a charming smile. "You going back to your room?"

"Yeah, I gotta shower."

"Good, you stink."

Alex had never felt nervous or self-conscious around Mike before, but since his incarcerated epiphany a few days earlier, almost every time he talks to him, he feels his cheeks heat up with the embers of a thousand fires; it doesn't even matter what they're talking about or if they're even talking at all. It's Mike's presence, his aura. It's in his voice. The way he carries himself; the way he cares. It's an energy that rushes towards him with the growing force of a raging tsunami. There's no escaping it. It's terrifying, exhilarating. It leaves him standing in awe and he's surprised he's able to stand at all.

"Come to my room when you're done?"

"Sure," Alex agrees, doing his best to ignore the _want_ he imagines in Mike's voice…and in his eyes.

Silently, the pair share an elevator ride together and Alex can hardly believe the amount of tension building between him and his friend. It's almost too painful to look at him. _Almost._ He manages to steal a few glances at the guy and he wonders why it's taken him so long to see how unbelievably good-looking Mike is; how beautiful he is. A smile nudges at the corner of his mouth as he thinks about the way Mike saved him and at how amazing he is, at just how _everything_ he is.

The _ding_ of each new floor seems to come in intervals of minutes rather than seconds. Time slowing down enabling Alex to take it all in. He doesn't realize he's studying a set of rosy lips, but he is. Intently. Like he has some big exam coming up and the focus of his attention is the topic of every delicious question. Before this moment, he'd never given them much thought, but now he takes note of how the center of the guy's upper lip is a bit higher on the left side than it is on the right, how the lower is plumper than its counterpart and he wants to know what they taste like. Surely that will be on the test. And just so he's fully prepared, he wants to know how Mike would use them and what he'd do with his tongue and _oh fuck_. He's so close to coming undone when the ground beneath him jitters to a bumpy halt, a final _ding_ prompting the door to slide open. The one place he wishes he could stay is the same place he can't get out of fast enough.

Cool air hits Alex's face as he steps into the hall and the relief he feels is comparable to his overwhelming curiosity of what could have happened if they had conveniently gotten trapped between floors. He'd be sure to set the curve then! "See ya in a bit," he spits out while turning in the opposite direction of Mike's room. Once he's in the clear, a silly grin finally breaks free.

**xxxx**

It's a simple task, routinely uncomplicated and completed after only two steps. A quick wash of his hair and a lathering of his body. The last of the soapy suds slip off soaking skin and make their way to the swirling drain. This is the point when Alex would normally reach for the knob to turn off the water because he's done, but this time is different. Sparks have ignited a fuse inside of him that he can't ignore. It's not something that's become a habit over the years, although it definitely wouldn't be the first time. But in a way, it is.

His thoughts are permitted to shift and he's in the elevator again, the ground beneath him pushing his body upwards. It's a subtle pressure at the soles of his feet as he stands in the enclosed space, and as he stands in the shower, another pressure. A pressure down past his bellybutton, at the center of his hips, away from his body. It's the grasping of his hand causing the pressure, creating an enclosure even tighter than the walls of the elevator.

He's staring at Mike's mouth again. His whole body shudders when he sees succulent _red_ daring to reveal itself between parted lips, moving across them - to moisten, to tease. This time Mike looks up to Alex. First his eyes, and then a raising of his chin in a most enticing way, inviting Alex to make a move. Words flow between them without a sound. An entire conversation with a blink of an eye; a stroke of the hand. Alex slaps the button pad to his right. It doesn't matter if his aim was on point or not, because it is, because he wants it to be. The elevator comes to a full stop between floors. If there's an alarm ringing, he can't hear it, so it's not there. He pushes himself off the wall, lunging himself into a kiss.

He can feel Mike's hands on him. Over his shirt. No, they're under his shirt and better yet, he's pulling his shirt over his head. They travel down his naked back, collecting beads of sweat with his fingertips. Alex braces himself against the shower wall, Mike squeezing his ass with a fierce wanting, and when the guy moves his hands around the curves of Alex's hips, he can feel him through his mesh shorts. "Ahhh," Mike breathes, clearly impressed by what Alex has to offer.

Alex moans as Mike palms him through thin fabric. And he moans due to the violent rhythm of his own hand, doing his best to restrain himself. Wouldn't want his echoes heard ricocheting off tile walls. Mike moves his hand to the elastic band around Alex's waist, his fingers slipping down inside and with firm determination, he grabs hold of him. Flesh meets hard, sweaty flesh as Alex's forehead meets his forearm. It's dynamite, gunpowder alight.

He stands there for a minute, breathing heavily, the water still hitting his back. Concentrates only on the peace he feels from his release. But soon that peace melts away and he's left with the reality of what he just did, the tension returning. Unfortunately, it feels more like guilt this time. A guilt laced with shame.

Alex runs his fingers through his hair. "What are you doing?" he whispers. "He's your friend…He has a girlfriend."

**xxxx**

Mike opens the door and as Alex enters his hotel room, he's hit with an intoxicating scent that wafts over him, and through him. "You smell…" He sighs absent-mindedly, overtaken by Alex's body wash, or is it his cologne? Pinpointing the origin of such an airborne aphrodisiac is of no consequence. It's just _Alex_. Just as it was _Alex_ when they were in the hall earlier, just as it was _Alex _when they were in the elevator together, and what undoubtedly would have been described as the musky, masculine odor of a spent man to anyone else, was deemed the least bit offensive by Mike. The complete opposite, in fact. His senses were captivated by the affected air around him - the air he was breathing in _so_ deeply - his body held hostage, unable to move but fully alert. There's just an extra layer now, an added layer of complexity for Mike to more than happily navigate through. But before he travels too far down the path of his secret longings, he abruptly slams on the screeching brakes. "Clean."

Alex squints with annoyance, wonders why in the hell his mind would play such cruel tricks on him. "Thanks," he responds, fearful that if he did not acknowledge such an innocent compliment from his friend, his awkwardness would surely be on display.

Mike knows he should clear his mind, but clears his throat instead. "So, I talked to Orton this morning. That's where I'd just come from when I ran into you in the hall."

"About your match tomorrow night?"

Mike gets giddy with excitement, with anticipation. "Yeah."

"He must be pissed."

"Not really. He actually seemed cool with it. We went over the whole thing from when I come out and cash in the contract all the way through to the end. Basically, right when it looks like I'm done for, he's gonna go for the RKO and I'm gonna counter with the Skull Crushing Finale. He's gonna try to grab my neck," Mike says, acting out Orton's move, "and then-"

"And then you're gonna reach up behind him," Alex interjects enthusiastically, rushing behind Mike and locking his arms under his friend's arms, raising them above his head. "And bam!" He swings his leg in front of Mike's and pulls back slightly, tripping him with his own finisher. They lose their balance, stumbling forward and Alex quickly wraps his arms around Mike, clutching the man's belly to keep them from crashing to the floor. Mike grabs onto Alex's hands and neither man can stop laughing. Alex straightens his posture, bringing Mike with him so they're both standing upright again.

Alex can't manage to stop giggling. If he did, however, he would realize that Mike's laughter has already subsided. But even then, it would never occur to him that it's because the man has lost himself in the moment; melted into the protective warmth that surrounds him - appreciating that, aside from their on-screen hugs, this is the closest they've ever been to each other. It would never even cross his mind that his breath on Mike's skin is making the guy's heart beat faster by the nanosecond and that Mike's eyes are drifting shut as he wonders why this should feel so goddamned right.

As Alex settles down, he turns his face into Mike, his lips daring to brush against a blushing cheek as he momentarily confuses the very real moment with involuntary reverie. Suddenly, as if a spotlight shone down upon him, he becomes blindingly aware of what he's doing. "I, uh, I just remembered…" His voice projects into the room with a sharpness that slices through the intimate silence. Pulling away from Mike leaves such a vivid imprint in Alex's mind that it's all he can think about as he staggers to the door, nervously looking back towards his friend and trying not to trip over his own feet at the same time. He's so wrapped up with what he can't have that he couldn't feel the way Mike held him back. "I told Cody I would grab a bite to eat with him, so I'll just see you at the show tonight."

"But wait!" Mike calls out desperately, as if there isn't enough time to get his question out and he's right because Alex is already stepping into the hall. "Do you want to drive over with me?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll just get a ride with someone else. After all, Maryse will be with you."

"Maryse?" But it's too late and Alex is already gone.

**xxxx**

Alex knocks on Mike's door. He was surprised when his friend called him from the hotel because even though they didn't drive to the show together, he still intended to drive back with him. That's what they've been doing for a solid month, so this is out of the ordinary.

The second Mike opens the door, Alex realizes something's wrong. Mike is usually full of energy, even after a match, and he never gets sick, but right now he seems very weak.

"Good, you got a ride," Mike slurs.

"Yeah, Cody gave me a lift." Alex follows Mike into the room, donning a look of concern and then one of panic sets in as Mike loses his balance. "Shit!" Alex instinctively reaches out to catch the collapsing man and he's certainly not going to do what he did earlier in the day. He's been stressing about how careless he had been and how he must have freaked Mike out by holding him too long, and too close. But now there really isn't much time for him to dwell on it, not in the shape Mike's in.

Alex drapes Mike's arm over his shoulder and helps him to the bed. Mike lies down, leaving enough room for Alex to sit beside him.

"What happened, bud? You seemed fine earlier." Alex sits on the edge of the bed, his knee bent so he can face Mike.

"I don't know," Mike mumbles sluggishly. "I just don't feel good."

Now that Alex can get a better look at Mike, he sees that the man is clammy and pale; peaked. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Uh…Lunch," Mike answers, but he's not very convincing.

Alex leans in and places his hand against Mike's forehead. He's sweaty but not hot like he had assumed. "You don't feel like you have a fever, but uh, let me get you something."

Alex disappears into the bathroom and emerges a few seconds later with a dampened washcloth. "Here." He places the cool compress on Mike's forehead. "How's that feel?"

Mike melts into the soothing effects. "It feels good."

"I'm gonna get you somethin' to eat." Alex reaches out to pat Mike on the hand, but when he does, he feels rough material under his fingertips.

His concern for Mike had been so great that he hadn't even noticed that the guy's still wearing protective tape around his wrists. A knot forms in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about what could have happened tonight. It sickens him to think about Mike getting behind the wheel when he didn't even have enough energy to fully change out of his ring attire - and this so soon after his own driving incident. It's incredibly out of character for Mike to have been so reckless.

Alex forces himself to stop thinking about all the terrible what-if scenarios and just be thankful that Mike made it back safely. He reaches out and grabs Mike's wrist, pulling his hand towards him and placing it palm up on his knee. He runs his index finger and thumb over the surface, feeling for the cut off mark. When he finds it, he starts peeling it back.

"You can't take it off!" Mike says frantically, his free hand landing with a hard _smack_ on top of Alex's hand, startling the man.

"Why not?"

"Because," Mike whimpers, "it keeps my heart safe."

Alex furrows his brow. "What?" There's a hint of laugher sprinkled in his question. He feels somewhat guilty for mocking Mike when he's obviously disoriented, but it's just so random.

"Underneath, it's beating and I have to keep it safe."

Alex tries his best to interpret Mike's meaning, if there even is one. "You mean your pulse?"

"No," Mike whines, looking up to Alex with sad eyes. "It's my heart."

Alex smiles widely, he doesn't even think Mike would say something half as strange if he were hammered, but he plays along anyway. "Okay," he says sympathetically. "I'm not going to hurt your heart. I'm just going to take this off because it'll help you cool down."

Mike doesn't fight Alex any further on the subject. Either he doesn't have the physical strength to push Alex away and argue against it, or most likely, it's that he just doesn't even realize that he'd been arguing in the first place. His protesting hand falls to the bed and Alex continues unwrapping Mike's wrist.

"Where's Maryse?" he asks shyly. Part of him is genuinely curious and another part needs to see if Mike's fallen asleep. Unraveling layer upon layer, Alex waits for the guy to process the question.

"I think she was going out with Kelly."

An abrupt scoff on Alex's end.

"What's that for?"

Alex shakes his head. "Nothing."

Mike smiles lazily. "Ah, I get it. _You_ wanted to go out with Kelly," he says lethargically.

Alex's eyes dart to Mike. "No, I didn't," he assures, adamant in his denial, his upper lip curling in disgust at the mere mention of Kelly's name. He crumples up the long piece of black tape and hurls it across the room into the garbage can. Moves on to Mike's other wrist.

"There's someone else then," Mike teases.

Alex looks to Mike again, wishing inside that he could just tell him exactly how he feels. But there are so many reasons why he can't, the biggest one currently being that he can't even tell if Mike's wholly conscious or not. Once again, he's prompted to think about how often Maryse neglects her boyfriend - and Mike deserves so much more, he deserves the _best_ - and before he has the good sense to censor himself, Alex is opening his mouth and thoughts he doesn't mean to verbalize tumble out. "I just think you deserve better, that's all." The tone of his voice is dripping with sadness and honesty. He drops his gaze back down to Mike's wrist. He sure hopes his friend doesn't think he's trying to instigate another fight regarding his relationship with Maryse; he really doesn't mean to rock the boat.

Upon hearing Alex's response, Mike raises his eyebrows without opening his eyes. It lasts for but a split second – Alex completely missing the micro-expression. "Someone like _you_?" the weak man asks softly, unaware that his fingers are caressing the inside of his caregiver's forearm.

Alex snaps his attention to Mike again, this time becoming very nervous. He bites his bottom lip and he knows he's only able to look at the guy because his eyes are closed, but then Mike slowly opens them, tilting his head upwards, his eyes shimmering with a certain vulnerability Alex has never seen before, in anyone. The moment becomes overbearingly intense for him, even more so than the elevator ride and when he was alone with Mike earlier, combined.

"Someone who'll take care of me instead of going to the clubs," Mike says weakly and his voice is already starting to trail off. "Instead of hooking up with all the pretty girls who think…you're the most…" He doesn't get to finish his sentence, his voice giving out on him and his eyelids growing heavy again.

"Mike?" No response. Alex pulls the final layer of tape from the guy's skin and then sits for a moment, just staring at Mike, holding his wrist in his hand, wondering if there's an iota of truth to what he was saying or if it was all just the nonsensical ramblings of a malnourished man in the process of passing out.

Alex sighs. Everything he wants in the whole world is lying on the bed beside him and if he could, he'd be perfectly content just sitting next to Mike as he sleeps, but he knows his friend needs sustenance. He needs to build up his strength if he's going to be ready for his big night.

Alex grabs Mike's keycard so the guy won't have to get up to answer the door when he returns, and when he does come back, he sits down next to him again. "Mike," he whispers, nudging the sleeping man's arm gently. "Mike…"

"Alex."

Alex knows he must be blushing in response to the way Mike drew out his name on his breath, but there's nothing he can do about that. "Yeah, it's me. I have something for you. I found a deli down the street that was still open and I got you some chicken noodle soup."

Mike smiles gratefully. He musters what strength he does have and sits up against the headboard. Holds out his hands and Alex gives him the styrofoam container of soup. "Thank you."

Alex can hardly believe the way Mike's looking at him and he wants to let himself go - live the rest of his life lost in those bright blue eyes, _found_ in those bright blue eyes. "You're welcome," he responds. When Mike looks down to his soup, it's as if Alex is released from some kind of trance. "I also got you a sandwich and some Gatorade and water." Alex proudly points to the items on the nightstand and then looks back to Mike with a goofy smile. He watches as Mike eats a spoonful of his soup. "I hope it's good."

Mike sighs, instantly feeling its healing properties taking effect.

"If we were at my place, I would've made you the best soup you ever had."

Mike looks up to Alex, surprised. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I used to cook all the time. I got pretty good at it too, but as you know, there's not much time for that these days."

Mike looks back down to his food; stirring the colorful contents with his plastic spoon, circling around his next words. "I didn't eat at all today," he confides timidly, feeling ashamed.

Alex forces himself not to show his surprise or disappointment, just shows concern instead. "How come?"

"I guess I started thinking about everything and it felt like it was all crashing in on me."

Alex swallows thickly. He's familiar with that kind of heaviness, he feels it even now. "I shouldn't have left you this morning. I should have invited you out to lunch with me and Cody."

"Hey," Mike says, reaching out and placing his hand on top of Alex's. "It's not your fault-" He stops short. Decides it's best to keep the other half of the answer to himself: how seeing Alex walk away from him earlier in the morning was crippling, worse than the worst pain he's ever felt. It was like someone was literally ripping out his insides - the parts that help him stay alive. It made him feel so sick that it spoiled the mere thought of food and almost made him consider canceling his latest match. Just because he doesn't tell Alex those particular details doesn't make the part he already admitted any less true, so he leaves it at that.

He takes another bite. Sure, the soup is doing its part, but he knows it's more than just the soup. It makes him feel that much better just seeing that Alex cares about him, and that he's with him. "You're such a good friend to me," he says. "My best friend."

There's a quiver in Alex's breath that he tries to hide, but the emotion has a way of transferring to his eyes instead. "You're my best friend, too."

It's only a few words, it's only a few seconds, but it's profound and both men feel it.

"Shit, I must look really stupid." Mike laughs nervously, rolling his eyes and scrunching his faux hawk in his fist.

Alex shakes his head in complete disagreement and then he notices Mike becoming sad again.

"What if I fail, Alex?"

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

Alex takes a deep breath. "Then you fail and I'll still be here, proud to call you my friend and the best person I know. But this is your moment and I know you. This is what you've busted your ass for. So, you grab hold of it and squeeze it for everything it's worth, have the time of your life. This is your moment to shine, to show them what you're really made of. This wasn't handed to you, you earned it and you deserve this."

Mike can't help but smile, he can't help but feel motivated. He's so grateful that Alex believes in him and supports him. He wonders if he'd be able to do any of this if Alex wasn't in his life and then he wonders how he even made it this far without him.

"Now eat up, champ. You're gonna need your energy for tomorrow night."


	11. Championship

11. Championship

Alex leaps into the air as he and Mike enter the empty locker room. "That was so fucking awesome!"

Mike's grinning from ear to ear and his cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so hard, but he easily ignores the discomfort. Can't believe his lifelong dream of becoming WWE Champion just came true and if that wasn't enough, he was able to share the experience with his best friend by his side. Mike raises the title to his mouth and kisses it, can't believe he's holding this object - this title - he's wanted his whole life and not only is he holding it, he now owns it.

Alex approaches Mike and grabs his face. "You're so fucking awesome!" He shakes Mike enthusiastically and Mike starts to laugh.

Finally the shock seems to be wearing off and the new champ starts to feel the full extent of his achievement. He doesn't even have to blink, tears of pure joy stream down his cheeks, one after the other, and Alex just keeps wiping them away with his thumbs, then his palms and then his knuckles until his hands are soaked in Mike's tears; can't stop repeating how proud he is of his friend.

"You earned this, you deserve this. There's no one on the planet I would wish this kind of happiness for except for you. You know that?"

Mike nods, laughing exuberantly.

Consumed by this surreal moment, Alex leans in and kisses Mike on the lips. Despite his feelings, the kiss isn't meant to be romantic, it's meant only to express his own joy at seeing his friend achieve such success. But at the same time, it's not as if he goes around kissing his friends on the mouth every time they win something.

As he pulls away, still holding his friend's face in his hands, Alex suddenly realizes there's no objection on Mike's part. He waits a few seconds, giving Mike time to back away if he should choose, but to Alex's surprise, Mike remains still, sparkling eyes filled with what looks like _hope_. And that look he thought he was only imagining the night before, seems more real than any trick his mind could ever play on him. Taking what is arguably the biggest risk of his entire life, Alex kisses Mike again, this time holding the connection in a way that can no longer be interpreted as celebratory or in any way platonic.

For the first time in Mike's whole life, he's surrounded by everything he wants, everything he needs. A feeling he's only ever felt after waking up from a perfect dream washes over him and it's as if he's just snuck a peek into heaven. The pearly gates opening before him, welcoming him with-

Suddenly, a mixture of loud voices from the hallway comes charging towards the lip-locked men, giving them just enough warning to separate before a slew of superstars and divas pile in to congratulate the new champ - Maryse leading the rambunctious pack. Mike and Alex stare at each other as the room starts to fill up with cheers and echoes of those cheers.

Alex smiles as he looks to his feet. He slowly backs away, looks up to Mike with a subtle glance and then he's gone without a word. Mike's sights are fixated on the spot where Alex had been standing. All this commotion around him and he barely notices any of it.

Maryse seems to be louder than all the rest, boasting about her boyfriend's big win as if it was her own. The diva starts announcing which club they're going to first and bragging about what she'll be wearing.

All the while, Mike can only think about Alex.

**xxxx**

Mike tries to enjoy his so-called celebration. After all, there's not much in this world he loves more than people making a fuss over him, but it all seems so insignificant without Alex. He tries dancing to the obnoxious techno music blasting throughout the hazy club, but instead of cheering him up, it only makes him feel dizzy. The taste of the alcohol is sour, its effects not even worth the effort of bringing the shot glass to his mouth. The fact that he hasn't had to pay for a single drink doesn't make it worth it either. He uncharacteristically hides himself away in the VIP section, seeking comfort in a big curvy booth.

Solemnly, Mike watches as superstars and divas alike get plastered and make fools out of themselves. Some pairing off with each other, others wandering off to secluded corners with mindless groupies. Even before Mike was with Maryse, he still never sunk to the level of some of his co-workers. Doesn't understand how they can be so reckless and cavalier. And maybe he's just getting older or maybe it's just his current state of melancholy speaking, but this isn't the way he imagined celebrating the biggest win of his career, of his _life_. Everyone - those who can't stand him and even those who claim to care for him - only using it as an excuse to get wasted, not even caring what a monumentally big deal this is, so he gets up and searches for his girlfriend in the crowd.

When he finally spots her, he places his hand on the small of her back. "Hey, sweetie, do you think we could-" But he's cut off when Maryse darts her attention to John Morrison as he's passing by. Mike scowls, almost feels like he should be jealous, but he's not. Who wears sunglasses in a darkened club anyway? Really, he's only pissed that Maryse won't listen to him.

He leans in close to her ear and tries again. He shouts so the woman can hear him over the music and she turns her head into him. "I think I'm gonna-" But just as the first time, Maryse has proven she has neither the patience for, nor the interest in what Mike's trying to say, her focus being diverted once again. "Yeah…I'll be going now," Mike murmurs, rolling his eyes, annoyed and frustrated as he watches Maryse scurry towards Kelly.

**xxxx**

Mike showers, ridding himself of the remnants of what should have been a fantastic night. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks over to _his_ title displayed on the table. It still has Randy Orton's name on it, but he doesn't care, admires it just the same. Looking at the championship brings the earlier events of the night to the forefront of his thoughts. He thinks about the rush he felt when he pinned Orton, the way he was consumed by emotion when he fell to his knees, the way he jumped out of the ring and instinctively ran into Alex's arms, the way they held each other as they made their way up the ramp, the way Alex's lips felt when he-

A gentle knock at the door peels him away from the unfolding memory, but when he opens it to find Alex there, it all comes flooding back. Too many emotions for one night, but Alex is here now so everything is right even if nothing is right.

"Hi," Mike says, greeting his friend breathlessly. Clears the threshold, silently inviting him in.

Avoiding eye contact, Alex enters the room and places the Money in the Bank briefcase on the table next to Mike's newly won title. "I wanted to make sure I brought this to you," he says, his voice mellow and controlled. "But I actually didn't think you were gonna be back so early."

Mike scrunches his faux hawk, willing himself to stay calm in the man's presence. "Yeah, well, it's not really fun when Maryse is making everything all about her. Plus, I kinda thought you were gonna be there."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it. You didn't miss much."

"No, I'm sorry I kissed you," Alex says, head to the floor, so desperately wanting to look up at Mike but not being able to find the courage.

Mike wondered how long it would take before they talked about what happened and now he knows. His heart beating hard. The base of his throat aching painfully. "Are you?" he asks bravely, hardly wanting this moment to pass him by. He tilts his head, searching for Alex's eyes, trying to coax the guy into looking at him.

Alex looks around as if he's contemplating the answer. "No," he confesses, finally connecting with Mike. "Kissing you was like winning my own championship tonight."

Mike exhales, sharp and ragged, completely paralyzed by such a blunt admission.

Alex winces, so embarrassed by the sound of his own voice, but he knows he's beyond the point of being able to keep his feelings to himself, and even if that wasn't the case, he knows he owes it to the guy after crossing the line and possibly tainting the greatest night of his life. Most of all, he owes it to Mike for the shit he pulled a week ago - getting arrested and humiliating him; almost costing his best friend everything. The fact that he isn't holding an icepack to a busted lip right now gives him the extra boost of confidence needed to get everything out in the open. "When I go back to my room at night, y'know, after hanging out with you, I feel like I left a chunk of me behind and all I wanna do is come back here and get it because when I'm with you again, I feel…"

Mike waits for Alex to finish, but when he realizes something is blocking the outlet, he gives Alex a gentle nudge to continue. "You feel what?"

"Don't laugh at me," Alex warns sternly, folding his arms across his chest, a subconscious effort to protect his heart.

Mike shakes his head, his eyes glistening over. "Never."

"Whole."

That one word has the power to cut off Mike's air supply mid-breath. In all these weeks, it seemed too impossible for Mike to even imagine Alex feeling just a fraction of what he feels for him, so he didn't. But there it is. Standing in the presence of such honesty makes Mike's knees grow weak for the second time since winning the championship. He lowers himself to the bed and sits there just staring at his title.

Alex shuts his eyes tightly, nearly regretting his candid confession. "Please say something."

Mike barely shakes his head, hardly knowing where to begin, but then the words start flowing from the inner reaches of his heart - something he's always had the power to block, but with Alex, he willingly relinquishes that control. "All I ever wanted was to win that title. I thought about what that moment would be like almost every day since I was a kid and tonight it happened, it finally happened and as stupid as it sounds, it felt like that was the moment I was born for, the whole reason I even exist. It was the best moment of my entire life."

Alex melts listening to the way Mike describes how he felt and prays he didn't tarnish the victory.

Mike looks up to Alex with overwhelmed emotion. "And then you kissed me and it was like none of that even mattered anymore. You made the best night of my life into the _best_ _night of my life_."

Alex raises the back of his hand to his forehead. "Fuck," he breathes.

Mike discreetly chews the inside of his lip, physically trying to force back impending tears. "I know. How's that for a curve ball?"

Alex feels like he wants to laugh but he's too shaken, too nervous. "What are we gonna do?"

Mike shrugs hopelessly. "What can we do? I'm with Maryse and for all her faults, she's always been loyal and it's not exactly as if I can break things off with her now anyway. I've just been catapulted into the spotlight of this whole fucking company. Every eye is gonna be on me, scrutinizing every move I make in a way I can't even imagine." A solitary tear manages to break free when Mike realizes what he's going to say next, his body going numb. "I think we're at a dead end."

Alex nods, reluctantly agreeing to the bitter truth of it all. "I get it." And that's all he can muster before turning for the door.

"Don't go," Mike calls out desperately, immediately standing to his feet, attempting to compose himself.

Alex stops in an instant.

"Please stay. Until Maryse gets back?"

Alex wants nothing more than for this night to go on forever so he fulfills Mike's request without a second thought.

The two men situate themselves on the bed, sitting side by side, their backs against the headboard. Mike clasps Alex's hand in his own, their fingers mingling before interlocking and Alex rests his head on Mike's shoulder. They don't know how long they have but they're just grateful to have any extra time at all.

Mike chuckles inwardly. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

"What's that?"

"The one thing I've wanted my entire life is the one thing that will keep me from being with you."

Alex squeezes Mike's hand. "Y'know, back then I didn't understand how I could have lost. I didn't understand _why_ I lost because up until that point, despite the minor glitches, it felt like everything had fallen into place so perfectly. I was _good_, I was really good, and you were the best pro on that board and you were _my_ pro. But I understand now, and I'm so happy I lost because in losing that competition, I actually won."

Mike leans over and kisses Alex's forehead. All his own failures suddenly making a kind of sense he never thought possible.

Soon, Alex is asleep, but Mike forces himself to stay awake so Maryse doesn't walk in and find them like _this_, but when he receives a text from her saying that she's with Kelly and won't be back until later, he allows himself to fully relax.

For the first time in months, Mike and Alex are allowed to sleep in. Their schedules are cleared until next Monday when Mike will debut as the new WWE Champion. However, since the pair are so accustomed to waking up before dawn, sleeping in proves to be a useless benefit.

Mike slowly opens his eyes. He wonders if last night was merely a dream, but when he realizes there's an all too familiar blanket of warmth enveloping him, he knows it was real. Alex is close behind, holding him in his strong embrace and that perfect feeling he felt the night before washes over him again. Mike caresses Alex's arm and turns to face him. Caresses his cheek until he's met with comforting eyes.

"Oh shit!" Alex exclaims, nearly jumping out of the bed. "Maryse!"

"It's okay, she's not back yet."

Relieved, Alex settles back down on the bed next to Mike. "Aren't you worried about her? It's really late." He looks at his watch. "Actually, it's really early now."

"She sent me a text saying she was with Kelly a while ago. But you're right, she should've been back by now."

"I should go back to my room then," Alex suggests sadly.

Mike knows Alex is right but he can't bring himself to even nod. He doesn't want Alex to ever leave, but there he is, rolling out of bed, slipping on his shoes and heading for the door – obviously able to do what needs to be done, even if it's killing him on the inside.

"Alex…You forgot something."

Alex turns around, pats his thigh. Feels the contours of his phone, his keycard, feels his wallet in his back pocket and then looks back up to Mike confused. Mike gets out of bed and makes his way over to the table. He picks up the dented Money in the Bank briefcase he's always entrusted into Alex's care and even though it represents one of the most important milestones in his career, he also knows how much it means to Alex, so he hands it to his friend. "You keep it," he offers with a sweet smile.

Completely overwhelmed, Alex pulls Mike towards him and kisses him in a way that ensures the memory will last a lifetime - just in case this is the last time.

**xxxx**

Mike climbs back into bed even though he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep. He just wants to replay the events of the previous night over and over again while he still has the time because he knows everything is about to change. Unfortunately, it comes sooner than he had hoped.

He only has a couple minutes to himself before Maryse finally comes back. Mike wonders if she crossed paths with Alex in the hall and then he wonders why the hell she's even getting back at this hour. But then it occurs to him that he really doesn't care at all. He pretends to be asleep and lets his every thought be filled with Alex instead.


	12. Thankful

12. Thankful

Mike follows Alex into a darkened hotel room. He holds the door open a little to let some light in until he hears a click. It's Alex switching on a lamp. Mike surveys the space. It's much different from the kind of room they usually stay in. This one is larger, more refined, and it should be. It's a suite in one of the most luxurious hotels New York City has to offer.

"How'd we end up here?"

Alex sets down his suitcase and turns towards Mike. "I asked you to a football game and you said yes. And then we needed somewhere to sleep."

"Oh, right." Mike shoots Alex a coy smile as he sets down his own suitcase. Drags the zipper along its fixed path, from rounded corner to rounded corner and then ruffles through his belongings, searching for what he needs. "I think I'm gonna grab a quick shower."

"Are you hungry? I could order some room service or somethin'."

Mike shakes his head. "I'm good." Grabbing a change of clothes and his personal toiletries, he heads for the bathroom. Sets his stuff down on the counter and looks in the mirror. Can't believe he dropped all his plans at the drop of a hat. He's no stranger to spontaneity, but this takes it to a whole new level. The man asks him to go to a football game, across the country, on Thanksgiving Day and he says yes? No hesitation. Just yes. Mike smiles, almost doesn't recognize the happy man staring back at him.

He showers like he said he was going to do and then it's Alex's turn.

Mike walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. Listens as the shower starts up. He can tell by the way the water hits the tile floor that Alex hasn't gotten in yet - an even flow, a certain echo. He imagines Alex stepping in, naked, and then the pitch of the running water changes, telling him that now he has. Just a few minutes ago he was naked in that same spot and he thinks he could be again. All he'd have to do is get up and walk.

The idea triggers a thought, a memory, a seed sprouting in his mind.

_A man's most basic need._

He looks down to the bed, sprawls his hand across a broad area next to him and can't help wondering if that's why Alex brought him here, if this is the bed they'll discover each other in; where they'll make love for the first time. Mike starts getting nervous, he's not even sure if he's ready for that yet. As often as he's thought about it - the various scenarios, the different positions - he's really not prepared. He's not a virgin by any means, but it's not exactly as if he's ever been with a man before. There are certain precautions, he imagines, and before now, he hadn't taken into consideration how experienced Alex must already be.

Over thinking leads to overheating, even with the air on. He takes off his shirt, wonders if he should just go for it - take off his pants while he's at it, hop in the shower with Alex and see what happens. Nah, too forward. Plus, there's still Maryse to consider. How would he ever be able to look her in the eye?

Just then, Alex walks out of the bathroom and all the uncertainty evaporates, every last droplet of doubt. He salivates at the sight of the man. A rush of endorphins. A t-shirt and basketball shorts - never been anything special before, but somehow now it exceeds the definition. He gets up and walks towards Alex like he's being pulled towards him, tethered by an invisible rope. He's wanted to hug him ever since he saw the handsome man waiting for him at the airport, but they haven't been alone until now.

Guided by desire, instinct steers this ship. No more worries about being too forward, no thoughts about what Maryse would think, and any petty insecurities about his experience level become irrelevant. It's about doing what feels natural, and there's nothing more natural to Mike than hugging Alex. He walks up to the man and coils his arms around his waist. Melts into him, holds him close. He kisses Alex's shoulder through his shirt but wants to feel his skin, so he creates a space between their bodies. Gathers the bottom of the dark fabric between his fingers and then he pulls it over Alex's head, revealing his bare chest. He stares at it, transfixed by defined pectoral muscles, the hardness of his nipples. He lowers his gaze to the ripples of toned abs, then to his bellybutton, and then follows the path back up. Mike's spellbound by the way Alex's torso expands as he breathes, finds himself inhaling and exhaling when Alex does, but then he loses the rhythm. His breaths start to condense, overlap. He's nervous again, but in the best way. He looks up to Alex and is comforted by the way his midnight blue eyes were already waiting for his.

"I thought I imagined it," Alex says, "the way you look at me. But you are looking at me like that, aren't you?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm all you see."

Mike can hardly nod, he's so captivated by yet another moment he never thought would be possible.

Alex sees the emotion in Mike's eyes and knows Mike must be seeing a similar one in his own. He answers the calling and moves back in for another hug, or rather, a continuation of the last one.

Mike breathes in the blended scent of Alex's body wash, his shampoo - this time he's actually allowed to. It's the same kind as before, the same fragrance. It's distinctively Alex. He sighs orgasmically, like he's just taken a bite out of the most decadent dessert. It's the rush from a long awaited hit of his favorite drug - caffeine, morphine, nicotine - anything so bad it's good, but there's nothing bad about Alex. He's just pure, raw, unadulterated pleasure specifically made to interact with his system.

A wanting ache surges through Mike's body. He moves his hands over Alex's skin, every inch of his smooth back. The man is electric, magnetic. Addictive. His eyes roll back as he feels Alex's fingers graze his scalp, tug at his hair, his other hand just below his waist, pulling him close and he trembles. It's like no hug he's ever experienced before. There's an energy, a warmth, a pull. Even without a kiss it manages to be the most erotically charged moment of his life. If two people could make love just by hugging, that ecstasy would pale in comparison.

"Do you feel that?"

Alex moans melodically. "What is it?"

"I don't know." Mike's heart is pounding against Alex's chest, beating hard, almost as hard as another part of himself. Surely Alex must know what _that_ feeling is. "Tell me what you're thinking," Mike says breathlessly.

"I'm thinking…if your fucks are as good as your hugs-"

"Alex!" Mike gasps, pushing the guy's shoulders with an equal measure of force and flirtation.

Alex catches his footing, a knowing smile firmly in place, his dimples alone making him irresistibly charming. "Why, Mr. Mizanin, did I make you blush?"

Mike takes a few seconds to fight back his smile. "Is that what you want to happen tonight?" he asks innocently.

Alex hesitates, his stomach fluttering. "I want…to not fuck this up."

Mike takes a deep breath and then takes Alex by the hand, leading him to the bed. He climbs in halfway and reclines, looks over to the man.

Alex kneels on the large bed and then crawls over to Mike, places an arm on either side of the guy. He inches in slowly, the tip of his nose feathering Mike's nose. He looks down into the bluest eyes he's ever seen, and most definitely the only eyes that have ever looked at him with such longing. He leans in a bit further, enjoys the way Mike parts his lips in anticipation for a kiss, a subtle quiver in his breath, but Alex withholds. Pulls away and rests his cheek on Mike's midsection instead.

Such teasing makes Mike smile and he can't help but be impressed by Alex's willpower. Over and over, he combs his fingers through Alex's hair. With his other hand, he caresses the man's arm, up and down, up and down as Alex rubs his hand over his chest. They stare at each other, can't get enough and so thankful to just have time together.

"I really like you," Mike says, his voice the first sound he's heard since they've gotten into bed. "God, it feels good to say that." He laughs with relief, with joy; his stomach bouncing under Alex's cheek. He tilts his head, wanting to curl in closer to the guy, never felt more comfortable being this close with anyone. "So, tell the truth. Have you ever looked at me in the locker room?"

Alex grins, his cheek pressing into Mike's belly. "Eye level. I keep my eyes north of the equator."

"Have you wanted to?"

"What I want to do and what I'm smart enough to actually do are two different things," Alex says, all the while working one of Mike's nipples between his fingertips. "Why? Have you looked at me?"

Mike looks up to the ceiling, a telling smirk on his face.

"You have, haven't you?"

"I may have looked at your ass once or twice."

Alex spins around so Mike has a visual of the enticing subject matter, which he wiggles. "It's a nice ass?"

Mike runs the flat of his hand down the scope of Alex's back and settles on a part of his body that has always captured his attention, not to mention, been the focus of many naughty imaginings. "You know it's perfect," he says with a spank. "I could write a dissertation on how perfect your ass is."

"Could you? And having only looked twice."

Mike giggles – and now having felt it! He brings his hand back up to the wide expanse of Alex's back. "Tell me about this," he says, his fingers following a deliberate design.

"My tattoo?"

"Yeah. You've never talked about it before."

"It cost me eight hundred bucks."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, a little. Maybe more than I remember."

Mike traces the details with his fingertips, can't help but start with Alex's last name. His real last name. "It means a lot to you."

"It's everything that's truly important in my life." Alex pauses, tries to remember that time when the things his tattoo represents were all he knew and all he really cherished. It's hard remembering his life before Mike came into it though. He clears his throat, switching his thoughts back to the topic at hand. "It's my folks-"

"Lauren and Kevin?"

Alex nods. "And my brother, Kris."

"And what about the Bible verse?" Mike drags his fingers down the length of the large Celtic cross that's permanently inked between Alex's shoulder blades. "Philippians 4:13?"

"_I can do all things through Him which gives me strength_. That's helped me through a lot of shit."

Mike can relate. He thinks about how difficult it was when he was just starting out and how no one thought he was talented enough; how they all thought he'd fail. He thinks about the last few months, about what he went through when he realized how deep his feelings for Alex were, _are_. It's the first time he's thought about their situation in relation to religion though, wonders how his mom would react if he told her. "Your parents are religious?"

"Yeah. Roman Catholic."

"Have you ever told them?"

"About what?"

"You know, that you're…"

Intuitively, Alex knows how that particular sentence ends. He turns back around, rests a cool cheek to a warm belly. There's a look in his eyes, like he's been misunderstood. "Mike," he says sadly. "You're…I've never had feelings for a guy before."

"Oh. And to think I was gonna follow your lead."

"You mean, you haven't either?"

Mike shakes his head. "This is all new for me."

"Some mentor you are." Alex winks, and the pair have a nice laugh. Any pressure they may have felt is gone in an instant, the weight has been lifted. "I was really starting to regret that comment I made to you before, you know, about how a man shouldn't be deprived of his most basic need."

"Yeah, I remember. I'd been thinking about it actually, wondering if you meant it."

Alex snickers. "I mostly said that to be obnoxious," he says, crinkling his nose. "So, don't you think this kind of thing was supposed to happen to us in college?"

Mike shrugs. "I dropped out of college, so…"

"But I mean, why was it hidden inside for so long?"

Mike runs his fingers through Alex's hair. "Just waiting for the right one, I guess."

"Ah, he's a romantic."

Mike giggles, swipes his hand lazily across Alex's face. "Well, I for one don't think I would've been able to handle this at twenty."

Alex looks to Mike, concerned. He knows what he's been through, but would hate knowing that his friend has dealt with a similar anguish. "It's been hard for you?"

"Alex…" The man's name exhaled instead of spoken. Mike tilts his head, wondering how Alex couldn't already know. "I thought I was gonna go the rest of my life never feeling anything for anyone but you, and that I'd be alone because of it."

Alex feels a stinging in his eyes. Reaches up and holds Mike's face in the palm of his hand. "I was starting to think the same thing."

Mike holds Alex's face and suddenly, the guy bounces up and gets comfortable right next to him. "Hey, you know what I could go for right now?"

Mike releases a laugh, fully appreciates Alex's enthusiasm. He wipes the outer edge of his eye as he turns towards the guy. "Tell me."

"A bacon cheeseburger."

Mike licks his lips, his eyes lighting up. "That sounds good."

"With barbeque sauce."

Mike giggles.

"Or spare ribs."

"With barbeque sauce?"

"Of course. Everything's better with barbeque sauce."

Mike can't help but smile, his cheeks starting to ache because of it. "Barbeque sauce…I'll have to remember that. What else do you like?"

"Well," Alex says, flipping onto his back, looking at the ceiling as he thinks of his favorite foods. "Italian, of course. Spaghetti, lasagna, pizza. You can never go wrong with pizza. And not the cheap crap. I'm talking authentic. And pancakes! I'm a big fan of breakfast, _big_ fan." He turns back towards Mike, arm bent under his head. Looks at him with a sweet smile. "I like when we go to Denny's. Y'know, 'cause the food."

Mike stares into Alex's sparkling eyes, can hear all the words he's not saying and he knows he's not just talking about the food. "Tell me the craziest thing you've ever eaten. No, the craziest thing you actually like to eat."

"Hmmm." Alex takes a moment to think. "Well, it's not really _crazy_, but I like sushi."

"Oh man, there's this place in L.A. you'd love then. They have the best sushi. I always feel like I'm breaking my diet, but I'm really not. And it's so much fun to eat."

"It's pretty fun to make, too."

Mike tucks his chin in. "You've made sushi before?" he asks, skepticism in his tone.

"I sure have," Alex declares. "And to prove it, one day I'll make you some."

Mike holds out his hand, somewhat awkwardly because of the position he's in. "Promise?"

Alex looks to Mike's hand and meets it with his own. "Promise." He shakes firmly and then grabbing Mike's hand in a slightly different manner, he scoots closer to him. "It's amazing. You talk about food and still manage to be so sexy."

Mike nibbles on his bottom lip, he knows he's blushing.

Alex admires the look on Mike's face, looks to his lips, wet from the guy's nervous nibbling. "I want to kiss you."

"Do you?" Mike feels a confidence wash over him as he realizes how very much in charge of the situation he is. "If you could kiss me just once, where would it be?"

Alex looks down Mike's body, deliberately taking his time, and then scrolls back up to his eyes when he's decided. "Your heart."

Mike touches his chest with his free hand.

"Not there." Alex lowers his grasp, holds Mike's wrist in his hand and rubs the inside of it with his thumb. "Right here."

"Y'know, it's been a while since I took anatomy, but I don't think that's where my heart is."

"You don't remember? What you said the other night."

Mike furrows his brow.

"You said that your wrist tape keeps your heart safe."

"Oh my God." Mike automatically shuts his eyes tight, rolls onto his back, pulling his hand away to cover his face. Knows full well he's turned beet red. "I said that out loud? I thought that was a dream."

Alex rolls onto his stomach, propping himself up with his forearms as he watches Mike's dramatics unfold next to him. Silly grin adhered in place. "Definitely not a dream."

"Ahhhh, that's so embarrassing." Mike groans, peeking at Alex through the space between his fingers.

"And do you remember what I said?"

Mike nods, slowly letting his hands fall from his face.

Alex smiles and shifts his weight to his left elbow as he collects Mike's hand again. He turns it over, palm side up and leans in, placing a kiss to the inside of Mike's wrist. He holds his lips to the tender flesh until he can feel Mike's pulse. And it's strong. So strong.

Mike covers his mouth with his other hand. Obviously he's not the only romantic in the room. "Thank you for inviting me today. And for bringing me here. I know I said we should keep our distance, but the last two days were…" Mike pauses. Exhales heavily, shaking his head like he's recalling something he doesn't like. "I don't know how I would've made it another four without seeing you. It's funny, I usually welcome that kind of break, it's like an added bonus when you win a title, but you changed that for me."

"There was a time I would've liked a week off, too." Alex turns back onto his side, his cheek resting against the pillow. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Your mom wasn't too disappointed when you cancelled your trip?"

"I'm sure she was. She knows I don't get home cooking very often. I actually think she was more sad about that than not seeing me."

"I'm actually driving down to see my folks tomorrow for a post-Thanksgiving dinner."

"Oh," Mike says, taken aback, didn't realize Alex had additional plans. "In that case, be sure to thank your dad for the tickets for me."

Alex hesitates a couple seconds, doesn't want to overstep, but what the hell. "Maybe you could thank him yourself."

"Are you asking me to go with you?"

"If you want to."

"To meet your parents?"

"Well, don't forget about the turkey."

Mike mulls over the idea. "You know what? Yeah. I'd love to go with you, and not just for the turkey. It'll be nice meeting your parents and I'll thank your dad for the tickets, even though the Bengals lost-"

"Hey now, don't be rippin' on the Jets tomorrow. Pop used to play for them, y'know. Has a special place in his heart for his old team."

"Are you kidding me? You never told me that!" Mike grabs Alex's side playfully, squeezes in rapid succession.

"Whoa," Alex laughs, instinctively trying to stop Mike from tickling him. "It was only for one season."

"You know how much I love football. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Well, maybe that's _why_ I didn't tell you," Alex says, curtailing his laugher. "Guys always treat me different when they find out. They're nicer and then they want my dad to get them autographs and introduce them to other players, which he's done in the past, but y'know then he became a sportscaster and now he talks sports on the radio. I can't bother him with stuff like that."

"He has a radio show? A _radio show_, Alex? Y'know, that's basically one of my dream jobs."

"I bet."

"So, is there anything else I should know? Was your mom a cheerleader?" Mike asks sarcastically.

"No, but…"

"But what?"

"She was Miss Virginia back in the day."

"Oh, alright," Mike says, his delivery drawn out and deliberate, his smirk - infectious. "This is all starting to make much more sense to me now."

Alex chuckles. "What is?"

Mike extends a hand, caresses Alex's cheek. "You," he says tenderly. He traces the features of Alex's face like he did his tattoo. Down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, his eyelids, his eyebrows. Alex enjoys the affection and Mike enjoys giving it. "What time did you wanna leave tomorrow?"

"Check out. Let's sleep in."

Mike smiles. Even though he's not sure he'll be able to sleep that late into the morning, and even though his motto has always been _I'll sleep when I'm dead_, he has a feeling as long as Alex is next to him, he could stay in bed forever. He rides that wave as long as he can, but it's not sustainable. No wave ever is. It crashes against the shores of reality; his smile crashing along with it. He lowers his hand, resting it on Alex's chest.

Alex notices that Mike has stopped and looks over to him, wondering why. "What's wrong?"

"Today's been wonderful. Our first date."

"This wasn't a date."

"No?"

Alex barely shakes his head. "You'll know when it's a date."

"Well then, whatever it was, it was nice to blend in and not have to worry about anything, just enjoy football like a regular person again. And hang out with you."

Alex remembers looking over to Mike as they sat in the stands, just two nobodies casually enjoying the game. He looked so happy, an image he'll never forget, but now his expression is the complete opposite. "That doesn't explain why you're so sad all of a sudden."

"I just realized we're not gonna have nights like this and mornings like tomorrow when we get back to work. It could be a long time."

"How long do you think you'll have it for? The title, I mean. Have they told you?"

Mike shakes his head. "Maybe two months," he says, but he's unsure and it shows.

"I can wait two months."

"What if it's longer?"

"You want to go Wrestlemania, don't you?"

Mike looks at Alex, feeling guilty for wanting something that's still over four months away and knowing the only way to get there is by holding onto the championship.

"Hey," Alex says, stroking Mike's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mike stares into Alex's eyes, waiting. Something's supposed to follow a promise like that. He pushes himself up, sits in the center of the bed.

"Mike?"

Mike scrunches his soft hair that has naturally formed into a faux hawk, takes a deep breath. "I was actually relieved when you didn't kiss me tonight. I didn't want to kiss you because I had already kissed you goodbye the other night. I thought that was the last time. I didn't want to kiss you again because I knew I shouldn't, because it would be too hard to stop, but now all I can think about is how I'm gonna regret not kissing you when I had the chance." Mike looks over his shoulder to Alex. "Maybe we could have one night. There's no tomorrow. There's no work. There's no rules. And you could kiss me."

The stinging Alex felt in his eyes earlier returns. Every time he's too afraid to say something, Mike says it for him and it's an unbelievable relief. He sits up, inching himself closer to Mike. There's nothing on the planet he wouldn't give to kiss him, so he does, fulfilling their mutual desire.

Mike grabs onto Alex desperately and Alex does the same. They kiss until their lips are chapped and then they kiss until sleep takes them captive.

At some point in the night, Mike wakes up and realizes they never turned the lights off, so he gets up and makes the rounds. He climbs back into bed behind Alex and wraps his arm around the man. Everything is so perfect he can't help wondering if he's dreaming. The next time he opens his eyes, it'll be morning and he'll still have his arm wrapped around Alex, and still, he'll wonder if he's dreaming.


	13. Detour

13. Detour

Growing up, Mike always wished he lived in a house like the one he's currently sitting in front of. Two stories with an air of sophisticated charm nestled on a cul-de-sac. It's a nice neighborhood; an understated affluence. The freshly mowed lawns are lush and green, vibrant even, though in a few weeks it'll all be white - a blank canvas. Snow will blanket the earth. The bare trees have already lost their leaves in preparation for the long winter that lies ahead.

"You sure you wouldn't rather check into a hotel?"

"And do what? Sit there instead of spending time with you?"

Alex grins. "Well, when you put it that way," he says with a wink.

"But you did check with your parents to make sure it's okay that I'm spending the night, too…right?"

"I did. Twice. They're cool with it, I promise. They're just happy I'm able to visit and since our flights aren't until the morning they pretty much insisted that we stay the night anyway."

Mike sighs nervously. He really thought he was over the bulk of his nerves years ago, but ever since Alex came into his life, they've resurfaced.

Alex leans forward, staring through the windshield at his old neighborhood. "Is this weird?"

"What? Bringing me home to meet your parents?" Mike tries to lighten the mood, but when he sees a flash of uncertainty in Alex's expression he takes a different approach. A more genuine one. "Of course not."

Alex turns to Mike, his cheek pressed against the back of his hands as they hold onto the steering wheel. "Is it weird that it's not weird?"

Mike giggles and rubs the back of Alex's head.

Alex takes a deep breath, feeling reassured.

As he walks around to the passenger side of the rental car, he feels the heaviness of paranoia surrounding him, like his parents will _know_, but when he sees Mike standing there, any doubts he has vanish.

"It got cold." Mike shivers, as he's shutting the car door. Looks to the overcast sky. "It's gonna pour."

Alex notices the wind ruffling Mike's clothes, flipping his collar up, so he thoughtfully folds it back into place.

"I'm overdressed." Mike shakes his head looking down to his designer suit. "Why am I wearing this? Why did I even bring it when I was just going to a football game? I should've worn something more casual. Maybe I should." Mike loosens his tie, unbuttons his collar.

Alex has never seen the man act so critical towards himself before. He places his hands on Mike's busy hands.

Mike stops moving. Just looking at Alex calms his nerves. This is much more important than just meeting his _friend's_ parents. He wants to make a good impression. Doesn't want them to think he's at all like his character. "I just don't wanna look like a pompous jackass."

"You don't. You look-" Alex pauses, straightening Mike's tie. "You look beautiful." He blushes in response to seeing the way Mike blushes. "C'mon, once we get some warm food in us, we'll relax. Mom told me Pop made the best turkey last night. Sounds good, right?"

Mike nods and Alex brushes his fingers through the guy's hair just over his ear.

**xxxx**

"Are they here?" The feminine voice rips through the silence. Doesn't realize the extent to which she startles the man she's directed her question to.

The older gentleman turns around suddenly, releasing the long curtains he's been holding back. "You scared me half to death, Lauren."

"Oh, please. A big guy like you? You don't get scared. Now, are Kevin and his friend here? I thought I heard a car door shut a minute ago."

Alex's father nods. "They're walking up just now," he says, heading for the front door and opening it before Alex has a chance to ring the bell.

"Oh, Kevin," Alex's mom squeals, using her son's birth name. "I'm so happy you boys could make it!" She pulls her son down into a hug and then turns towards Mike. "And this must be Michael."

"It's _Mike_, Mom," Alex interjects.

Mike holds out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kiley."

"Would you look at this! Call me Lauren, please." The former pageant winner ignores Mike's polite gesture and pulls him into a hug instead.

There was a physical warmth Mike felt when he walked in from the cold, but now he feels an emotional warmth as well.

"You wouldn't believe how much Kevin talks about you when he calls," Lauren says, releasing Mike from her embrace. "He's always telling me what a profound influence you've had on his life."

"Has he?" Mike smiles, looks to the ground as the color rushes to his cheeks. "Well, the feeling's mutual," he says, looking back up to his hostess, can feel Alex staring at him.

"And such a handsome young man at that-"

"All right, that's enough of that, Mom." Alex gives his mom a look. He knows she's just being nice, but she's always had a habit of unintentionally embarrassing him when he was growing up. Taking the not so subtle hint, she backs off.

Mike can barely restrain himself from chuckling at the exchange. He's never had an opportunity to see Alex interact with his family before and he's thankful he can see yet another side of the man he's grown so attached to.

Alex touches Mike's arm commanding his attention. "And this is my dad, Kevin," Alex says proudly. "My namesake."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Mike leans in, firmly shakes the talk show host's hand. "And thank you so much for the tickets yesterday. It was a great game. You must be happy the Jets won."

"The Jets did just fine." Kevin, Sr. doesn't take to Mike as easily as his wife has. He doesn't even hint that he once played for the team, but maybe that's because he thinks he doesn't have to. Nevertheless, not once does Mike let on that there's a noticeable _tension_ between them.

"Is Kris coming over?"

"Your brother came over last night," Lauren answers, "but he couldn't make it again tonight unfortunately. He had an early morning flight."

"Oh, that sucks." Alex looks to Mike and taps his arm. "I wish you could have met him, you'd have really liked him."

"You boys hungry?"

"Famished!" Mike takes off his jacket, passes it to Alex as he offers to help Lauren with anything she might need assistance with.

Soon, Mike is sitting across from Alex at the large dining room table he ate at as a kid and they're enjoying a hot post-Thanksgiving Day meal, but it hardly tastes like leftovers.

Mike looks to Alex's mom on his left and to his dad on his right. "This is really wonderful."

"Oh, I am so rude!"

Mike instantly looks to Lauren. He's not even sure she heard his compliment.

She places her fork on her plate, the silver clamoring against the white porcelain. "Congratulations on your big win, Mike," she says looking over to the new champ with sincerity.

Mike swallows his mouthful of food quickly, is so flattered that Alex's mom is even mentioning it. "Thank you."

"You must have been so happy to have won that belt."

"It's a title, Mom," Alex says, feigning frustration.

"But you wear it around your waist."

"After all these years, there's just no convincing her," Alex teases, looking up to Mike. "Does your mom call it a belt, too?"

"Your mom does have a point, Alex," Mike jests. It's true, he's always had a pet peeve about people calling the championship a _belt_ – it's not like he went out and bought it, he _won_ it. It holds meaning and prestige. But cornering Alex like this is way too fun an opportunity to pass up.

"You're really gonna side with her?"

"Kevin, it's not about taking sides." Lauren's harmless ridicule further pushing her son's buttons.

"Yeah, no need to get defensive, _Kevin_." The way Mike emphasizes Alex's real name causes the guy to look up at him, it's the first time he's ever really called him that. And when they make eye contact, Mike reaches his foot out and brushes it against Alex's under the table, the two sharing an inconspicuous flirtation.

"Well, maybe she does have a point," Alex concedes, looking to Mike with a growing smile.

"He's only saying that because he wants dessert," Mike teases.

The three giggle, Alex's dad not seeming too amused by the playful banter. Just wipes his mouth with the corner of his cloth napkin. The vibe is easily detected by his wife, so she feels obligated to deflect attention away from him the best she can. "Dessert then," she declares, pushing her chair out so she can start clearing off the table.

Alex immediately stands up to counter her movement. "I got it, Mom."

"I'll help you," Mike offers and the two collect the dirty dishes.

When they're in the privacy of the kitchen, Alex walks up behind Mike and leans into his ear. "You have to stop flirting with me out there."

Mike turns to the guy wide-eyed, mortified.

Alex looks at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah," he whispers, nodding, surprised Mike didn't realize the way he was coming across. He's usually so cognitive of the image he's presenting.

"I must have gotten caught up in the atmosphere and-"

"I know, it was my fault, too. We'll just tone it down and it'll be fine."

Mike lets out a sharp breath and gets the pumpkin pie. Alex carries a stack of clean plates and the pie cutter and they head back to the dining room.

"Hey, Pop, you want some coffee?"

"Sure, son."

"Mom? Mike?"

"Yes, please," Lauren says.

"Tea?"

Alex smiles at Mike and nods. He gets Mike a cup of hot tea and everyone else, himself included, a cup of freshly brewed coffee his mom put on before dinner.

Lauren serves the pie, handing Mike the first piece. "So, Kevin tells me you're dating another wrestler, is that right?"

Mike clears his throat. Definitely wasn't expecting _that_ question. "That's right," the stunned superstar answers, setting the appetizing dessert down in front of him.

"The French one?"

Mike nods. "Maryse." He forces himself to smile - the taste of his girlfriend's name on his tongue spoiling the sweetness of the pumpkin.

Passing a slice of pie to Alex, Lauren ponders further. "Have you been seeing her long?"

Mike doesn't blame his hostess for being curious and maybe it's better this way, especially when looking back at the show he engaged in with the man across from him during dinner - his memory managing to exaggerate their flirtation until it becomes increasingly obvious that they were acting like two high school students falling in love for the first time. "A couple years actually."

"Ah, that sounds serious-"

"Can you cut me a bigger slice?" Alex asks, attempting to shift the awkward conversation away from Mike. Passes the plate his mother just handed him over to his dad.

The skeptical man to Alex's left takes the plate and then looks at his son. "And what about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

And with that, things become more awkward.

"Oh, uh," Alex stalls, hates to lie to his dad and hates to deny what's going on with Mike, but the combination of a new relationship coupled with not knowing how his parents would react to such a revelation reigns him in. "Not really," he says, his answer straddling the line of honesty.

"That's okay, honey," his mom says, her hand falling to his forearm. "You'll meet the right person when the time is right."

Alex dares to look up at Mike who's cautiously looking up at him, but their moment is suddenly interrupted by a loud rolling thunder. "We forgot our bags!"

The two excuse themselves and rush to the car to get their suitcases. The rain falls like a massive sheet of water, drenching the men through and through. When they make it back inside, they find that the house has lost power and it doesn't look like it's turning back on any time soon.

Guided by the luminescence of her cell phone, Lauren lights some candles and hands one to her son and one to Mike. "Let me show you to the guest room."

"It's not really a guest room," Alex mutters. "It's just Kris' old room."

"Tonight it's a guest room," his mom quips.

Alex chuckles light-heartedly. "That's okay, Mom. I can show him where it is. Go eat your dessert and we'll be down in a few."

"All right then. Just make sure you dry off before you catch a cold," she instructs with motherly concern. "Both of you."

"Yes, Mom."

Alex leads Mike to his brother's old room and then fetches each of them a big, soft towel. Mike dries off his face and his hair, Alex mirroring his motions in front of him.

"Your mom is really nice."

"Thanks."

"Your dad's a hard guy to read though."

Alex sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why he's acting like that. He's usually more personable."

"Maybe it's just stress from the holidays."

"I don't know," Alex says, feeling pessimistic. His thoughts wander to his father, hopes Mike is right and it is just stress related. "I'll let you change then. You're gonna go back downstairs to finish dessert?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

**xxxx**

After the dishes are cleaned and conversations are wrapped up, everyone retreats to their respective sleeping quarters. Not long after, Mike sneaks out of his room and gently taps on Alex's door. Desperately wants to see where the guy slept as a kid.

"What are you doing here?" Alex's whisper is so faint, Mike can barely hear him. Slowly, Alex opens his creaky door, his eyes lighting up, perhaps due to the flame Mike's holding in his hands or perhaps due to another reason altogether.

"Shhhh." Mike squeezes his way past the man who's clad only in a pair of form fitting sweatpants. "I just wanted to see your room."

"Is that all?"

"Maybe." Mike looks around. Even though it's dark, the lack of light doesn't diminish the detail he can see. Most of the walls are covered in ribbons of various colors, shelves with trophies of various sizes. "Over-achieve much?"

"Shut up," Alex says, rolling his eyes; nudges Mike's shoulder. A comeback for a comment so ridiculously hypocritical is just too easy so Alex lets the guy have his fun. He walks over to his bed and sits on the edge. Rests his chin in his hand, nibbles on the tip of his pinky as he watches Mike look over every corner of his room. He's grateful for how thorough Mike is, the man taking his time and in turn his own observations can continue.

Mike turns towards Alex with a picture of a little boy posing with a baseball bat. "Is this you?"

"Oh, that's embarrassing," Alex says, getting up and reaching out to grab the picture, but Mike pulls it away just in time.

"No, it's not. You were cute."

Alex runs his hands through his hair. "That was my baseball phase and it didn't last long."

"Why not?"

"Because I sucked."

"I find that hard to believe."

"No, really. I hit the catcher in the head more times than I hit the ball…and that was with a tee, Mike."

Mike laughs. "Point taken." He sets the picture down and picks up a second photo. This time Alex is older and wearing a football uniform. "Was this high school?"

Alex tilts the frame towards him and nods. "Senior year."

"Just imagine, the star quarterback and the president of the yearbook," Mike teases and Alex just smiles. "We graduated the same year, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

Mike puts the photo back in its spot and turns to face Alex. "If you knew me back then do you think you would've liked me?" His whisper soft and timid.

"I think I would always like you."

Mike brings his hand up, Alex melting into the man's warm palm. "Thank you for showing me your life."

"Thank you for coming with me." Alex turns his head further, kissing the inside of the guy's wrist and they just stand together for a long moment.

"I'm gonna go back to my room now."

"You don't have to."

"I'm not gonna do that to your parents," Mike says, refusing the all too tempting offer. "Besides, you need a good night's sleep."

"Then stay." Alex takes Mike's hand in his own. "I sleep better when you're next to me."

"Me, too." Mike contemplates the invitation longer than he should, falsely getting Alex's hopes up, but he can't stay. He leans in and kisses Alex's forehead. "Goodnight, Kevin."

Alex sighs. It was a valiant effort on his part, no one can accuse him otherwise. "Goodnight, Mike."

**xxxx**

The electricity kicks on halfway through the night and Lauren is up before the sun cooking a large breakfast before her guests have to leave for the airport. She hears a shuffle behind her, turns towards her husband. "Are you feeling better?"

"It's going to take some time."

"But you thought about what I said?"

"Of course I did, he's our son."

"Good morning," Alex says, entering the kitchen with a bright smile. Hugs his mom, kisses her cheek and then turns towards his dad. "Hey, Pop."

Kevin Sr. stops preparing his coffee and walks over to Alex. Wraps him in a bear hug and though he's always had a healthy relationship with his dad, in this moment Alex can't remember the last time his dad hugged him so closely.

"My boy," the older man says as he pulls back, squeezes his son's shoulders. "I'm veryproud of you."

Alex chuckles, slightly embarrassed by the affection. "I know, Pop."

Mike's presence is delayed. Having only one bathroom at their disposal, he and Alex had to take turns getting ready but he finishes as quickly as he can. And when he does finally make it downstairs, he finds a smorgasbord of pancakes: chocolate chip, banana and walnut, blueberry, plain, it's all there. In addition to all that, there's an array of eggs, bacon, orange juice and coffee. It's quite an impressive spread and his stomach starts to growl from the delicious aroma wafting through the air.

Lauren walks over to Mike. "I noticed you prefer tea last night," she says with a warm smile, setting a cup of the hot beverage down beside Mike's plate.

"Thank you." It's been a long time since Mike has felt like he was really part of a family. After his parents got divorced he always felt like he was missing out on the kind of _completeness_ he feels now - a _completeness_ he's happy to know Alex has always had. He notices that his friend's father is in a better mood, too, smiling at him several times and even engaging him in conversation.

The discourse is overtaken by football, but Mike wouldn't have it any other way and he's thrilled to talk to someone who's not only in the business but also played the game professionally. Mike tells the sportscaster all about his own aspirations to host a radio show one day and is pleased with the response he gets.

Alex watches as his dad and Mike discuss the ins and outs of being a radio host and even though he would like to join in on the conversation, he remains quiet. Would rather his dad have the chance to talk to Mike without interruption, to get to know the guy. He finds himself smiling, beyond content. Wishes this was how life could always be and then he looks over to his mom and realizes she's been watching _him_. He doesn't think too much of it and she only smiles lovingly to him.

When breakfast is over, the pair gather their belongings and begin saying their goodbyes.

Mike watches as Alex hugs his parents and they tell him how much they love him and then Alex takes his suitcase out to the car, giving Mike a chance to thank the woman for her hospitality.

"You ready?" Alex asks, the question ripping Mike from the hug he was wrapped in.

"Just about."

Alex offers to take Mike's bag to the car and his mom decides to walk out with him.

"Thank you for everything, sir," Mike says, extending his hand to Alex's dad. "It was very informative talking to you. You sure know your football."

"You're not too shabby yourself, kid," he says, shaking Mike's hand with conviction.

Mike is so relieved to be parting on a positive note. He smiles and turns to leave, reaching for the doorknob.

"And son?"

Mike turns around and looks the man confidently in the eye. "Yes, sir?"

"You take care of my boy." The emotion in the man's voice is different, vulnerable even and Mike picks up on it in an instant. He finds himself holding his breath. "You look out for him. It's a tough line of work you two are in and I'd prefer not to see him get hurt."

Mike nods. His mind is racing, wondering if there's an extra layer of meaning behind the man's request. Suddenly he's nervous he'll say the wrong thing or let something slip or become defensive and offend the man. But instead, he says the most honest thing he can. "He's my best friend."

The older man nods, believes Mike's being sincere. "Good luck retaining your title."

"_Mike, we gotta go!"_

Mike turns to look out the door and then turns his attention back to Kevin Sr.

"Go, you don't want to be late."


	14. A Little TLC

14. A Little TLC

"There's something you should know about me, so I'm just gonna say it."

Alex turns to Mike, barely having enough time to shut the hotel room door before the man continues.

"Presents aren't really my thing. People always get you something you don't need or you don't want and then you have to get them something in return and frankly, it's a ridiculous custom I'd rather not partake in."

Alex scoffs, almost offended by Mike's outburst of a greeting. "Is this your way of telling me you didn't like the tickets I got you?"

"Tickets?" Mike's clearly taken aback.

"For Def Leppard. For your birthday."

Mike gulps, his stomach dropping. "I thought those were from Maryse."

"Oh." Alex pauses. "She never told you?"

Mike just shakes his head, eyes so sad. The level of betrayal he feels towards the woman swelling by the second.

"Well, I got them for you. I thought you knew."

Mike is affected by the reveal, his cheeks visibly washing over with a hint of crimson tint. "I should have known," he says solemnly as he lowers his head, recalling how disconnected Maryse was acting that night and even at the concert.

"Hey, it's okay, Mike. It was just my way of thanking you for everything you'd done for me. Helping me through NXT and getting me on Raw. And for being such a good friend."

"Did you not want to go with me?"

Alex clamps down on his bottom lip. "Yes. I wanted to go with you more than anything and I've regretted not going with you every day. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry she never told me."

Knowing there's nothing either of them can do to change what has already happened, Alex moves forward…by moving backwards. "Hey, I interrupted your little tirade," he says with a smile, hoping to make Mike feel better by reverting back to what the guy was originally saying. "You obviously weren't talking about the tickets, so I'm sure you were about to make an excellent point."

Mike sighs, collects himself and his thoughts. "It's almost Christmas."

"Very astute of you."

Mike clears his throat, pretending to be annoyed. "The point I was trying to make is that I hate when people give each other presents. But!" Mike amplifies the word, ensuring Alex won't be able to interrupt again. "I like you more than I don't like exchanging presents."

"I'm sure there's a coherent thought in there somewhere," Alex mocks playfully.

Mike contorts his mouth trying not to smile. "I got you something and I'd give it to you on Christmas but I'll be in Ohio with my family so I want to give it to you now."

"You didn't need to get me any gifts, Mike."

"Gift. Singular. It's not that big a deal."

"Okay, let me guess, you got me a sweatshirt!"

Mike points to Alex, scolding him. "Hey, no guessing."

"Should I close my eyes and hold out my hands?"

Mike knows exactly what Alex is trying to do and has no problem playing along. "Well, you could but it's kinda big."

"Oh?" Alex cocks an eyebrow, turned on by an all too appealing image of his boyfriend that's suddenly arresting his every thought.

"And don't you think I don't know what you're thinking." Mike walks to the far end of the room, Alex enjoying the view as he does so, and picks up an oversized box that had been stashed behind the side of the bed.

"And you got it gift wrapped!"

Mike glares at Alex but the guy's charming disposition proves to be quite irresistible. But then again, not much is new on that front. "You're lucky I like you so much."

Alex smirks, thoroughly enjoying the flirtatious banter.

Mike hands his sarcastic boyfriend the large box. "Open it," he urges.

Alex rips at the decorative paper and opens the box. The contents: a silver briefcase. "Do I have to open this one, too?"

"That's the gift," Mike declares proudly.

Alex holds the briefcase up by its handle and twists his wrist, spinning his present around for a full view. "I don't get it."

"If I could, you know I'd let you carry the title at every show, but _Miz_ needs to hold it to exude his power and authority and all that crap, but that doesn't mean you have to be empty handed out there and since you can't carry the Money in the Bank briefcase around forever, I wanted to get you this. Besides, you should really keep the real one in a safe place."

The guy who tried so hard to act like he wasn't affected by Mike's surprise is now utterly speechless. He looks over the shiny briefcase as if he's never seen one before. Runs his fingers over the smooth curves of its ridges and down into its grooves. Appreciates that it's large enough to hold the title and sturdy enough to protect it when they're traveling from venue to venue. "I love it," he says breathlessly and he's stunned that something so simple has made him feel so vulnerable.

Mike beams, full of pride. "Really?"

"Really." Alex underscores his sincerity with a kiss - the first one they've shared since Thanksgiving.

Mike moans melodically and as Alex pulls away, he moves half a step closer never wanting their lips to part. With his eyes still closed, he relives the soft kiss as he licks the taste of his boyfriend from his lips.

"Thank you," Alex breathes.

"You're welcome." Mike stares at Alex as he runs the palm of his hand in the valley of the man's chest, feels the warmth of his skin even through his shirt. Yearns for that warmth to blanket his whole body, but when he leans in for more, Alex tilts his head back, pulling his mouth just out of reach.

"I, uh…I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't get your present gift wrapped."

"_My_ present?! But you just gave me such a hard time."

Alex laughs. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, a real blast." Mike adds an exaggerated roll of his eyes to emphasize his sarcasm. "So, is it too big to wrap?"

"For someone who claims to not like presents, you sure are giddy."

"C'mon, is it?"

"Well…"

"Oh, you don't have it here. I have to wait? That's fine. I caught you off guard."

"Actually, I do have it. I always have it with me."

"Is this some kind of riddle?"

Alex chuckles. "You're not an easy person to shop for, Mr. Mizanin. It was a real challenge figuring out what to get a guy who has everything."

"You didn't seem to have much of a problem last time." Mike tacks a wink onto the tail end of the reminder. "But _please_ tell me you didn't spend a lot on it. I don't want you spending all your money on me. You're not having it shipped over from Europe or something, are you?"

Alex can't help the way he lights up at Mike's ramblings; the man is just too adorable for his own good, especially when he's worried, but he doesn't stall for long. Even though Mike may be cute when he's worried, it doesn't mean Alex enjoys seeing him in that particular state. "I talked to my dad a couple weeks ago," he says, quelling Mike's anxiety, "and he agreed to give you some airtime on his radio show. You could co-host for an hour or so just to get a feel for it, see what's involved. He's willing to work you in whenever you have time in your schedule."

Mike stands there, completely beside himself, forgetting to breathe for a moment and finally he takes a breath so he can speak. "I talk a lot."

Alex smiles softly. "I know you do."

"I'm probably gonna annoy the hell out of your dad's listeners."

Alex does his best to stifle a laugh. "I bet you will."

"Y'know, sometimes I talk just to talk, without really saying anything at all which is actually _really_ frustrating right now because all I wanna do is tell you how much this means to me." Mike brings his hand up to Alex's cheek. "But maybe sometimes words aren't enough."

The last month has proven to be a test of restraint on his part and right now he has an overwhelming need to express what he feels. So, finally giving into that urge, Mike pulls Alex into a deliriously delicious kiss; their tongues participating in a wrestling match that requires no winner as they fumble to the bed. Their fingers wreak havoc on each other's hair, on each other's clothes.

Mike forces his hands up under Alex's shirt, feeling his warm skin. He pulls the entire weight of the man down onto him; it's the only time he likes his shoulders being pinned longer than a three count. He grasps at Alex's back and curls his hands around his muscular shoulders.

Alex moans. "I love having your legs wrapped around me."

Mike squeezes his thighs tight, swallowing a responsive growl from his partner and then rolls Alex over, landing on top of him, grinding against the guy with a pent up primal instinct, one that's surging with unspoken desires.

Alex shudders. "Baby," he says, catching his breath, but he's not permitted to speak further. He's swept away by the coolness flooding his mouth. Should Mike's tongue taste so refreshing? He starts to imagine that he's wandering in the Sahara Desert and Mike's mouth is his oasis, the only thing keeping him alive. He starts to feel light-headed as he sucks hard on the pulsating muscle, consuming Mike's quenching juices. And when he hears the sounds of pleasure emanating from the guy, and vibrating against his lips and the chamber of his mouth, he wants nothing more than to rip off his boyfriend's clothes and bring all his late night fantasies to fruition. When Mike moves his efforts to his neck though, Alex finds himself not only compelled to, but actually _able_ to speak again. "Babe, I thought we were gonna wait." Alex slurs his concern the best he can and he thinks he said the words in the right order but he'll never know for sure.

Mike spends a few extra seconds suckling on Alex's neck and nibbling on his ear - his version of a make-out cool down. Still panting, he rolls over to Alex's side and looks to the man with a longing expression. "I don't wanna wait anymore."

Alex props himself up with his elbow. "What are you saying?"

"I'm gonna break things off with her."

Alex takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "I don't wanna say this…"

"Then don't."

"You can't break up with her a week before Christmas. It's tacky, y'know?"

Mike rolls his eyes, not at Alex – he adores the man's compassion – but at the thought of Maryse and having to spare her feelings after the way she's deceived him. And he doesn't care if he's using it as an excuse or not, he just wants to be with Alex without anyone else in the picture. "I don't like being a hypocrite, not in my personal life. I don't wanna feel guilty for being angry with her for lying. I don't like pretending I'm with her when I belong to _you_."

Alex replays those last four words over and over and he's not sure if he's ever heard anything sweeter in his life. He sighs and regrets his next words, even before he says them. "Even if you weren't with her, it couldn't change anything. We'd still be pretending we weren't together. It might be easier this way, just for the time being. I think we just have to stick to the plan because if you break up with her, she's gonna get suspicious, and…I just think it'd do more harm than good, don't you?"

"We're here _right_ _now_ and no one suspects anything," Mike challenges. "It can work like this. We can be discreet."

"If we let ourselves go, we're gonna forget where we are. I'm afraid I'm gonna forget where I am. I'll become careless. I don't think I can keep myself from touching you and-"

Mike laughs – a combination of Alex's concern and the way he's grabbing at him. "What, I'm just so irresistible that you're gonna lose control and jump my bones in center of the ring?"

"Now, there's a thought," Alex giggles. "Seriously though, being here with you, like this, right now, is more than I ever thought I'd have with you. There's no rush."

"You say that, but you're a _man_." The tone of Mike's voice verges on the side of seduction and the way he pins Alex to the mattress is an unapologetic act of temptation on his part. He's just begging for Alex to engage him again. "And _I'm_ a man," he continues, "and I know what you want and what you're really thinking."

Alex runs his tongue across his lips, bites the bottom one briefly, his eyes full of dangerous flirtation. "Oh yeah?" He deliberately shifts his hips under Mike's weight in such a way, pressing into the guy, making him gasp. "Then what am I thinking right now?" He squints, looks to Mike's hypnotic lips, awaiting an answer and he secretly hopes it comes in the form of a kiss.

Mike smirks at Alex. As he begins his short descent to his mouth, the bright red numbers of the digital clock sitting on the nightstand get caught in his periphery, daring him to look at it. "Oh fuck…" He groans, burying his face in the crook of Alex's neck. "I have a meeting I have to get to."

"Oh, Mr. Mizanin, you're too good," Alex congratulates teasingly.

Mike connects with Alex again. "You know that talking thing I do?"

Alex nods.

Mike shakes his head and melts into Alex again, opting to use his mouth, as well as the rest of his time, wisely.


	15. Confessions

15. Confessions

Small town after small town, it doesn't take long before they all start blending together. The view from the passenger side window is much the same; the greenery of the foliage, the blue undertones of the sky - it all runs together like watercolors. Looks much like spring, though it's still the dead of winter. Too far south for snow though.

Alex wistfully glances towards his left, stealing a quick look at Mike. The snapshot of the guy will last him a minute, maybe two and then he'll do it again. If it wasn't for Maryse sitting in the backseat, Alex would most likely stare at Mike the entire trip, but for now, subtle glances will have to do.

A couple hours into the drive, Alex feels his phone vibrate against his thigh. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the cryptic text. It's from his boss instructing him to get in contact with him as soon as he gets a chance. No reason included. Just the vague request. Alex crinkles his brow. Vince usually goes through Mike when he wants to relay a message, so the fact that he's contacting him directly is a bit odd, but Alex brushes it off because it's time to take another picture.

He looks to Mike again and this time he casually moves his arm to the center of the console. The flesh of his forearm grazes Mike's arm. Calmly, he turns to look out the window, acting as if he didn't notice what he just did. He secretly smiles as he imagines Mike's heartbeat quickening and his cheeks growing warm.

Mike tries to act naturally, tries to concentrate on driving, but Alex doesn't make it easy. It's not like they've never touched before, but without fail, each time feels like the first time. It's ridiculous and childish but he's never felt more mature than he does in moments like this one.

It's a rush of defiance. It's being able to kiss Alex without kissing him, communicate without speaking. It's their own private escape hatch. The same thing happens when he and Alex are at an autograph signing and Alex will purposely sit to his left so their writing hands will be next to one another and they can touch each other without a single person questioning it. It relieves the tension. It helps suppress their desire to fully _be_ with each other. Yet, at the same time, it makes the desire that much stronger.

"Michael," Maryse says.

Alex cocks his head towards the harsh voice coming from the backseat, forcing himself to bring his arm back to his side.

"Do you remember we have reservations tomorrow night?"

"Of course," Mike responds, briefly looking to Alex out of the corner of his eye, feeling awkward to be having this kind of conversation in front of him. "It's Valentine's Day."

Maryse scrolls through her phone. "It's at 10:30 so make sure you're ready."

"I have a match with Bryan so as long as I have time to shower before we leave, I'll be fine."

"Daniel fucking Bryan," Alex mutters and he doesn't mean to interrupt Mike's exchange with Maryse, but well, he kinda does. "I can't believe that kid's still around." Alex forces a phony, irritating yawn. "Have you ever met anyone more boring in your life?"

Mike laughs loudly, releasing the breath he'd been holding and then he feels a familiar warmth on his forearm, making everything right again.

**xxxx**

A single beep is all it takes to wake Alex. His mind had been racing non-stop the whole night, anxious to be with Mike again. His internal clock was already setting off an alarm of its own, so the single beep seemed to be just enough to finish the job. Alex rolls over reaching for his phone and even before he reads the text, he knows who it's from and what it says.

Since Christmas, the pair have created a comfortable routine of sneaking around behind Maryse's back, sneaking around behind _everyone's_ back. It's not only the discreet touching that saves their sanity, but mostly it's their early morning trysts that keep them from losing their minds. They never intended for things to escalate to this level, not while they're still at the center of everything, it's just naturally developed in this way. It's a constant need to be around each other, to be alone together and it doesn't matter that they haven't consummated their relationship yet because they know it'll happen when there's no more extra baggage weighing them down.

Alex grabs his keycard and the one Mike gave to him the night before off the desk. He dips into the bathroom and grabs his toothbrush and razor and heads to his boyfriend's room.

It's dark outside. Most of the superstars are still sleeping so Alex doesn't worry about running into any of them in the hall. Though, logic should tell him that if Maryse is up and leaving this early then perhaps someone else is, too. Subconsciously, this fear is always nestled in the back of his mind and probably one of the reasons he gets to Mike's room as fast as he does. But he would just as much proclaim it's because he wants to spend as much time with the guy as possible...which is also true, especially this particular morning.

Either way, Alex glances to his left and to his right before he unlocks Mike's door and enters the darkened hotel room. His eyes slowly adjust to the lack of light as he strips down to his underwear and slides between the cool sheets, his warm body pressing against Mike's. He kisses his shoulder and snakes an arm around his torso. Mike rubs Alex's forearm and then grabs his hand, brings it up to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

"I love it when she leaves this early," Alex whispers, still adorning Mike's shoulder with soft kisses.

"Shhh, let's not talk about her." Mike turns to face his boyfriend. Presses his forehead against Alex's and caresses his scruffy face. He thinks about the day when he can wake up and Alex will already be next to him, but he knows that day lies far into the future, so right now, he's just grateful to have moments like this with Alex at all.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

Alex hesitates. "Never mind."

Mike thinks he knows what Alex was going to say. The romantic in him is disappointed the guy didn't say the three words he's been waiting to hear, especially since it's Valentine's Day. But even so, he's moved by the attempt and leans in, meeting Alex's neglected lips with his own. "I think it's time to get up," he acknowledges - breathlessly, regretfully.

Alex nods and the sorrow in his eyes, visible even in the dim light of the sunrise, catches Mike off guard. He assumes Alex is sad because he didn't have the courage to say what he wanted to say, or maybe it's just having to move from this spot that's affecting the guy so much; it certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"As much as I'd love to stay here and kiss your stinky mouth all day, we gotta-"

"Stinky mouth?" Alex pretends to be offended, though his laughter betrays him in an instant. He rolls Mike over onto his back. "I think the more polite term is _morning breath_." Alex exhales and Mike dramatically covers his face, acting like he's disgusted. He wraps his legs around Alex's waist to assure the guy he's just playing, but he still acts like he's trapped, whipping his head from side to side, trying (and of course failing) to dodge Alex's huffs of hot air. Suddenly, Mike stops flailing around and grabs Alex's face, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, thankful his diversion worked - Alex no longer thinking about whatever it was that made him so sad.

Alex pulls away with a loud _smack_ of their lips. "I easily have the advantage, y'know."

Mike can't seem to stop giggling. "How so?"

"I could brush my teeth before coming over here, but I never want you to feel self-conscious about _your_ morning breath."

How Alex always manages to say just the right thing never ceases to take Mike's stale breath away. He turns the tables by rolling Alex over and sitting on top of him. Alex holds his partner's hips as the two stare at each other, each knowing exactly what the other is thinking, what the other is _wanting, needing_.

As Alex starts to rub Mike's thighs, Mike brings one of his boyfriend's daring hands up to his mouth and kisses it a few times, even sucks on a finger or two, not even remotely oblivious to the signal his physical flirtation sends.

Knowing this kind of teasing isn't fair (to either of them), Mike gets up before they get too excited and tugs Alex towards him. "C'mon. Let's go brush our teeth," he commands seductively. Well, as seductively as one can when talking about oral hygiene.

**xxxx**

When Alex is done shaving his face, he sits on the countertop next to the sink and watches Mike's silhouette through the translucent shower curtain. He wishes he could join him but the promise they made to each other is far too important. Besides, being naked with Mike on such a morning as this is probably the worst thing he could do, regardless of any agreement.

"You going out with Maryse tonight?" Alex grimaces, even though he already knows the answer, he still had to ask. He knows it isn't the most pleasant way to pass the time - talking about his boyfriend going out with his _girlfriend_ for Valentine's Day - but mostly he just wants to make sure that the option of being with Mike tonight is still off the table.

There's a slight delay and then Mike sighs. "Yeah, we're goin' to some fancy French restaurant. She's had reservations there since we got this month's schedule." Mike feels terrible even talking about his obligation and it's evident by the tone of his voice. "I like getting dressed up and going out, but I just…"

"Don't want to go with her," Alex says reflexively. He's not sure if he said it loud enough for Mike to hear, but it doesn't matter.

The water is shut off with a squeaky turn of the knob and Alex watches Mike open the curtain just enough to poke his arm out and grab a fluffy, white towel. A moment later, he steps out with the towel wrapped around his waist and Alex silently curses the fact that a piece of cloth could be so lucky. Mike grabs a second towel to dry off his face and then drapes it over his head to dry his hair.

Noticing that Mike is temporarily blinded, Alex takes advantage of the moment and pulls the man over to him with his feet, positioning him between his knees. Alex smiles as he listens to the echo of Mike's irresistible laughter and then reaches out, taking over the remedial task of drying his boyfriend's hair. After a few seconds he removes the towel from Mike's face, revealing the most beautiful smile he swears he's ever seen and his chest aches at the sight. He drops the dampened towel to Mike's shoulders so he can run his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and messily styling his recognizable faux hawk. When Alex is done, he brings his hands to his boyfriend's rough face. Takes in this perfect moment, always afraid each one like it could be their last.

Reaching over the sink, Alex grabs the canister of shaving cream and pumps it twice into the palm of his hand. He waits for Mike to object. Maybe he'd rather do stuff like this on his own, Alex never thought to ask before, but when Mike doesn't say anything, he lathers it onto the guy's face and proceeds to shave him smooth. After tapping off the excess cream accumulated on the blade, he turns back to Mike to take another stroke, but he pauses, captivated by the sparkling blue eyes in front of him. Again and again, he takes as many mental pictures as he can, reminding himself to remember every precious second. When he's finished, he brings both ends of the towel he left hanging on Mike's shoulders up to his face and starts to wipe him clean.

Mike tries to recall a time, even just once, when he felt like this in any of his previous relationships. None of his girlfriends ever took the time to make him feel like he was special, like he was the only person in the world that mattered. Alex, on the other hand, has proven time and time again how much he cares about him and sure, the steam from his shower still lingers in the air, making the bathroom quite warm, but he doesn't think that's the reason why he feels so light-headed. "I love you," he confesses in a drawn out breath. His decision to say those words not even fully realized until he heard them out loud.

Alex starts breathing heavily. That look from before, when he was so sad, appears again.

"It's alright," Mike says with a sweet smile. He squeezes his boyfriend's arm and rubs his thigh trying to comfort him. "You don't have to say it back." Even though he'd desperately love to hear those words in return, just knowing that Alex finally knows is enough for Mike.

Alex shakes his head and clears his throat. "I tried to tell you earlier," he whispers, almost on the verge of tears.

Mike can tell that the tone of the conversation has shifted and something's very wrong. "What is it, Alex?"

Alex looks away, the motion causing a tear to rush down his cheek. He quickly swipes it away with the back of his hand. "I called McMahon last night. After we checked in. He wanted to talk to me about something."

Mike feels queasy even before his next words are forming on his lips, and again, he knows it's not because of the steam. There's just no reason Vince would want to talk to Alex directly, unless...He doesn't want to know, but he _has _to know. "What'd he say, Alex?"

So focused on forcing back his tears, Alex can hardly find the strength to speak. He slumps over, bringing his hand up to his forehead to block his view of Mike, or rather, Mike's view of him.

"Alex, tell me."

"He decided to repackage me. He doesn't want me to be _Alex Riley_ anymore."

Mike has the urge to hold Alex close and at the same time, he wants to slap him for not telling him the second he found out. But he maintains his composure the best he can, opting to do neither. Instead, he steps back and walks towards the door.

Alex immediately hops off the counter to go after Mike but he doesn't have to go far.

Feeling as if his body is at the center of a tug of war, Mike takes a step back in Alex's direction. The fear of losing his boyfriend combined with his embarrassment over misinterpreting the situation makes it hard for him to look at the guy, no matter how badly he wants to. Perhaps it's a remnant of self-preservation leftover from _before_ he fell in love. Regardless of the reason, it creates a wall between him and his boyfriend that he can't seem to break through. His eyes connect with those of his own reflection and he's never seen himself so sad or disappointed or _scared_ before. "This doesn't make sense. Why would he do this?"

"I don't know. I was too shocked to ask."

Mike's facial expression falls flat, his body numb. "When?"

"A couple weeks," Alex answers, his voice trembling.

Mike stares at himself in the mirror and watches helplessly as a pair of tears stream down his cheeks. He turns to leave again, pausing only to tell Alex to get dressed and that they'll talk later.

**xxxx**

Mike feels Alex's arms wrap around him. He has no choice but to act angry because any feeling that doesn't resemble anger will no doubt translate into an overwhelming sadness and he'll lose it right in the center of the ring on live television. So _The Miz angry with his apprentice _is what the world sees…and it's what Alex sees. It's not until Mike's in the privacy of his dressing room that he turns himself over to his true emotions, finally releasing all the negative feelings that had been building up throughout the day. And of course there's a knock at his door at the most inconvenient time. "What?!"

"It's just me," Alex responds timidly.

Mike opens the door and hides behind it.

Alex walks in and just stands there, gaze fixated on the floor. He hated having to put on a fake smile and hug Mike in front of the audience, but that's always been his defense mechanism: to be happy, don't show them that they've gotten to him. Never give 'em an inch.

Mike shuts the door, pushing the whole world away and with it, the inexcusable actions of a terrified man. He realizes how wrong and selfish it was of him to abandon Alex when he needed him most - when it was blatantly obvious how devastated he was - so he locks the door and immediately rushes to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Alex wastes no time and spins around to wrap Mike up in a proper hug.

"I'm sorry," Mike says, sobbing into the shoulder of Alex's suit, so remorseful. He's disgusted by how he reacted. So what if he was mortified for misreading the situation? It never should have been a factor in the first place and he sees that quite clearly now. The way he acted contradicted the tender words he had, just moments before, confessed, and now, in _this_ moment, he makes a promise to himself to never put his own feelings above those of the man he loves ever again because that's not what love is. "All day I've felt so lost. I could hardly breathe."

"And you took it all out on our unsuspecting friend, Daniel Bryan." Alex chuckles through his tears at his adversary's misfortune of having a match with Mike tonight of all nights.

Mike pulls back to look Alex in the eye. "I got scared. I wasn't blaming you," he says, wiping away Alex's tear tracks. "It's just, there are so many things we haven't done yet, we have so many plans. _Wrestlemania_ and…" Mike pauses, realizes he's rambling. He was going to mention The Rock's surprising return after a seven year sabbatical but the fact that it was announced the same day he found out Alex is supposed to be leaving, sours the news. The irony of how the day played out has nullified its relevance to their lives. "It's not your fault, you know that, right?"

Alex nods and Mike shows his relief with a simple yet powerful kiss.

Mike presses his forehead to Alex's. "I have to go," he says regretfully. He doesn't have to elaborate, Alex already knows where to and why. "Will you wait up for me?"

**xxxx**

The hours drag on as Alex patiently waits in his hotel room. He never lucks out with a single, but for once he has. He always figured he'd be relieved to have the privacy, but it's the middle of the night and he feels so alone.

In the past, Valentine's Day has always been a burden to him. It's the one day out of the year he would always try to get out of. At least with Thanksgiving and Christmas he could use his family as an excuse, but February 14th is an entirely different animal. There were a few times he went as far as breaking up with the girl a month prior to the big day just so he wouldn't have to deal with the expense and the risk of the relationship becoming too serious too soon. But everything's changed now.

He tries not to think about Mike sitting across the table from his girlfriend, sharing a romantic dinner on the most romantic night of the year with her, but he can't help it. He can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy gnaw at him. But realistically, even if Maryse wasn't in the picture, Alex still wouldn't be able to take Mike out for the occasion – a fact he's perfectly aware of. His eyes glaze over when he realizes he's not actually jealous of Maryse at all. That nagging feeling in the core of his chest is grief. It's Alex mourning a kind of life he'll never be able to share with Mike.

He waits for a text, for a knock, for some kind of sign that Mike will be with him soon and finally the waiting is over. He opens the door and the only person who's ever declared genuine love for him walks right into his waiting arms and every trace of sadness he was feeling vanishes. Mike is all he needs.

"How'd it go?"

"It was awful. All I could think about was you and how every minute with her should've been a minute with you. And now it's gone. It's all wasted."

Alex squeezes his boyfriend tighter. He knows Mike must feel like time's running out, can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his body's growing weak.

"I hate this."

Alex can't help feeling like time's running out, too. Like he's being ripped away from Mike even as he stands there wrapped up in his arms. "Can you stay?"

Mike digs his chin into Alex's shoulder, nodding. "For a bit."

Alex gets back into bed and in the few seconds it takes him to rearrange the pillows, Mike's already kicking off his shoes, switching off the lamp and climbing under the sheets, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's warm frame and curling in close behind.

Alex settles immediately.

Mike runs his fingers through Alex's hair, places a kiss to the back of his head. He runs his hand down to his shoulder, leaving a kiss there, and then he slides his hand under the guy's arm. Mike's fingers explore the familiar landscape of Alex's chest and the ripples and grooves of his belly.

Alex takes a deep breath and releases it with an audible sigh, so grateful to have Mike with him again, and touching him again. He feels Mike's warm mouth on his shoulder and his hand on his hip. He enjoys the affection on a level he'd never be able to verbalize and he's not sure how much longer he can keep himself from having more, from having it all. A hot hand on his thigh now, massaging him sensually and he's amazed by the way Mike effortlessly molds his body against his own.

Mike's roaming hand eventually finds its way back to Alex's hip, then slowly migrates along the elastic band at the top of his underwear until his fingertips collide with the mattress. He lingers there for a few long seconds, tracing the edge of the material as if to contemplate…or to hesitate. All the subtle glances, the secret touches, the private moments they risk everything for - as exciting as it all is and as important as it all is, it can only tide them over for so long. Mike so badly wishes he could be with Alex in the way he needs, in a way that has never felt right denying or ignoring or delaying. It would be the easiest, most effective way to express the depth and breadth of his love and to prove that _nothing_ could ever come between them. So in taking a chance, Mike shifts his hand slightly, venturing into uncharted territory, only a pair of black briefs keeping flesh from meeting hungry flesh.

The pressure causes Alex to tense up as if a sudden current of electricity is passing through him. For a fleeting moment he allows himself to give into the feeling, forsaking all the promises, all the agreements to wait.

Mike's encouraged and tries to elicit the same response again, but instead of feeling the shudder he expects, he feels Alex's hand on his own, stopping him from trying a third time.

"Not like this, Mike."

Mike wants to ask why, he wants to burst into a grandiose speech convincing Alex that nothing matters except the two of them and what they want, and though he knows he'd do one hell of a job arguing his case, he also knows it's not the right time. Too many inkblots bleeding through the fabric of their relationship. He can't in good conscience ignore the fact that afterwards, he'd still have to sneak back into his own room and carefully get back into bed next to a woman the world knows as his girlfriend. Not while the WWE Championship is still firmly secured around his waist, and especially not with Alex's future in the company suddenly up in the air. Their first time should be special and pure. It should happen on their terms, and not to prove anything, or arise out of defiance to their circumstances. The memory they'd create definitely shouldn't have to carry around the permanent stain of all these complications for the rest of their lives.

Mike moves his hand back up to Alex's chest, squeezing him tight, never wanting to let him go. "I'm gonna fix everything," he whispers against Alex's ear. "Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but I'm going to fix it."

Alex brings Mike's hand up to his mouth, kisses it and then turns around and rests his cheek against Mike's chest, wrapping his arm around him, pulling him close. "I'm sorry today was so shitty. I wanted you to be as stress-free as possible, but it's so hard keeping things from you."

Mike holds onto Alex's arm with one hand and brings the other up to rub soothing circles to the side of his head. "I'm glad you told me. Now we can deal with it together. Everything's gonna be alright."


	16. Chorus

16. Chorus

Mike pulls out of the hotel parking lot, lowing his visor just as the sun hits his face. "I'm sorry we never got to talk last night," he says, patting Alex's hand. "After the match, Maryse pulled me aside and demanded we leave and I didn't see you in the hall."

"I'm just glad she had a flight to catch this morning so we can finally have some time together. It's been too long."

Mike quickly evicts all thoughts regarding Maryse from his mind and smiles joyfully. "I told you it would all work out, didn't I?"

Alex reaches over with his free hand and rubs the top of Mike's hand. "I'd be in Florida right now if it wasn't for you."

"See, I've got Vince wrapped around my little finger," Mike boasts, glancing towards Alex with a wink.

Alex laughs. "Oh yeah, easy for you to say _now_. Keep your eyes on the road."

Mike faces forward. Can't help but count the yellow stripes zipping past him.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

Each one reminds him of a day without Alex; an hour, a minute, a second. His smile fades as the count swells. "I hated those two weeks without you."

Alex reaches over and rubs the back of Mike's head affectionately.

"If they didn't keep me so damned busy, you know I would've flown to Tampa to see you."

"Hey, the silver lining is that we…well, _you_ were able to work everything out so we knew I was comin' back."

Mike grimaces. "Even though I knew you weren't really gonna be fired after your cage match with Cena, just having to play it out like you were, was still…"

"Too real."

Mike nods, releasing a deep breath.

Alex looks to his lap as he pulls his hand away. Finds himself shaking his head and becoming extremely resentful. "Cena's a fuckin' prick," he unleashes. He's been holding onto it since the night he was fired on-screen and he tried to ignore the ill-will he feels towards the guy, but now that he's back, it's clear he can't ignore it anymore.

"Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"No, I'm serious. He had no right saying what he said that night."

"So, you don't want to be co-champions with me?"

"That's besides the point," Alex says, starting to blush but it quickly subsides. "He basically outted us to the entire planet. And don't even get me started on how you and that asshole were tag team champions the week before they fired me. Now, that was bullshit."

"Ah, well the _co-champions_ bit was harmless, he didn't know there was any truth to what he said about us. I seriously doubt anyone gave it a second thought." Mike tries to stay rational, to give Alex some peace of mind. "But y'know," he adds with a charming smile, "I heard a few people who sounded like they'd be supportive of us." Mike blushes just thinking about Cena's comment:

_And now the Miz and Alex Riley are co-champions and to celebrate they're gonna move in together!_

The reaction from sections of the audience was almost comforting in a way. Some whistling and some cheering for the idea. But realistically, Mike knows each and every one of them dismissed the ridicule as nothing more than the sophomoric jokes Cena's always been known for.

"I just don't trust him." Alex looks out the passenger window, focusing on nothing in particular. "Would you believe he had the nerve to welcome me back last night?"

"He did?"

"Yeah, and you should've seen his face. I should have slapped the smug right off of his-"

"Don't worry about it, babe," Mike says, patting Alex's hand again. "He's probably just threatened and bitter because he's gonna be losing to me at Wrestlemania. Not to mention, the Rock actually came back. And please tell me you're as excited about this as I am."

Alex nods enthusiastically. "Hey, maybe you might actually get that Wrestlemania moment with him you always dreamt about."

"I seriously doubt it." Mike laughs, though he appreciates Alex's optimism. "But I'm tellin' ya, it's a sign. Everything's turning around for us."

"You're probably right."

"_Probably_? Of course I am."

Alex nudges Mike's shoulder with his fist playfully. "It makes sense that he'd be jealous." He runs his fingers between Mike's fingers, flips his hand over and runs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. The feelings he has for Mike reminds him of another conversation he had the night before. "Cody welcomed me back, too."

"Good. I'm really happy you've been able to stay friends with him."

Alex nods. "Me too, but uh, we had an interesting discussion last night."

"Well, Cody and interesting go hand in hand."

"Maybe interesting isn't the right word. He kinda told me he likes me," Alex reveals, biting his lower lip, anxious for Mike's reaction.

Mike looks at Alex quizzically, eyeing up his boyfriend's demeanor and when he's satisfied by what he sees, he turns back towards the road. "Yeah, well, I could've told you that."

"You knew?"

"Of course I did. The kid's had a crush on you since NXT."

"How do you know that?"

"When he came into the locker room after you…"

"After I lost?"

"After you _won_ third place," Mike corrects, "the sadness I saw in his eyes was very much the same kind of sadness I was feeling. At first, I didn't understand why he'd be looking at you like that, but when I figured out why _I_ did, I put two and two together and yeah…he had it pretty bad." Mike pauses for a second, thinking back to how ridiculously naïve he had once been about his feelings for Alex and he's glad he has such a firm grasp on them now. "So what happened after he told you?"

Alex shrugs nonchalantly. "I told him I'm with you."

"You did?" Mike's surprised that Alex would expose them to anyone, even Cody.

"Contrary to my feelings for Cena, I actually trust Cody. And besides, he took a big risk telling me how he felt, so I thought it was only fair." Just then Alex's attention is drawn to the music playing in the background. He hears the words _we're superstars_, and can't help but want to hear the rest of the song. He releases Mike's hand in order to turn up the volume. He's hooked on it in an instant, listening to the outlandish lyrics with a silly grin.

The chorus repeats. _We're superstars. We are who we are_…

"Hey," Alex chuckles. "It's like, our anthem."

Mike can't help but laugh. The upbeat single and its surprisingly relatable lyrics along with Alex's enthusiasm are a perfect combination. He turns up the volume a few more decibels and when the song is over, their happiness lingers. It was the shot of adrenaline they each needed. Mike turns the volume down to a more reasonable level. "What do ya say we stop for some breakfast? I'm sure we'll come across a Denny's soon."


	17. Between a Rock and a Maryse

17. Between a Rock and a Maryse

_Wrestlemania_ - the grandest stage of them all. Dubbed the super bowl of sports entertainment, it's the culmination of a whole year's work, the goal every single wrestler in the business sheds blood, sweat and tears for. Yet, in the span of entire careers, most men will never set foot in the ring on that night, but Mike has made it to the very top. Defending his title, his _WWE Championship title_, in the main event of one of the greatest spectacles in the world.

Throughout the years, he's often dreamt about headlining Wrestlemania and facing his hero in the industry, The Rock, or at the very least having a _'Mania moment_ with the man, as he'd like to say. So the fact that the _People's Champion_, who had left the company many years ago to pursue an acting career, is back to host the event, is more than enough to earn a tick on Mike's ambitious bucket list.

The whole week leading up to the show is an absolute whirlwind. Mike's days are filled with events he has to attend, countless autograph signings and endless meet and greets. It's a fan event extravaganza that's enough to leave anyone exhausted, but for Mike, it leaves him feeling like he's floating. He's so excited. Seven years of hard work and determination has brought him to the highest pinnacle of success and what makes it that much better is that he gets to share it all with Alex.

The night has arrived.

The pair are backstage, just a few feet from the entrance. It's all about to happen. A promo chronicling Mike's journey - from his early days on reality tv to this very moment - is playing for the first time. It sends chills down his spine just listening to it. He doesn't look to the monitor, has to calm himself somehow.

The nervous champion paces the length of the small area, trying to get in the zone. He looks up every couple of seconds to the curtain, hardly believing he's about to walk out to the ring to face John Cena and actually win. Retain his championship gold in what is sure to become the most memorable match of his career.

Alex says a silent prayer as he stretches. First, for Mike, asking God to fill him with strength and courage, and then one for himself asking for the same. When he's done, he grabs the silver briefcase Mike gave him for Christmas - loyally carries it out to ringside as a reminder of the turning point in Mike's career when he won Money in the Bank. And not only does it represent his boyfriend's accomplishment, but through its literal purpose of protecting the championship title, he carries it as a symbol of how _he's_ there to protect the champion. He looks up to him, sees the man pacing - something he always does before a match and Alex wouldn't dare interrupt him. Besides, he's still busy mentally preparing himself for the venture. He's never been in front of so many people in his life. And this crowd exceeds 71,000 enthusiastic fans. It's a bit daunting to say the least.

As the promo is in its final few seconds, Mike turns to Alex. His face softens and Alex knows exactly what his boyfriend is thinking without having to say a word. He smiles at the champ, giving him the extra boost of confidence needed for the task at hand and then his music hits. Louder than Alex has ever heard it before.

Immediately, Mike's face hardens again. He has to stay in character, wouldn't want to accidentally show the wrong emotion. He walks into the bright lights and his perception of time is instantaneously altered. What feels like seconds are minutes, and what feels like minutes are but seconds to everyone else. He stands in the center of the enormous stage and if he wasn't already feeling larger than life, he could easily be dwarfed by the grandeur of the panoramic view. Everything in the stadium is magnified compared to the venues he's used to. An awesome vision indeed.

Proudly and somewhat arrogantly, he holds his title high above his head, looking around to the sea of people. Pointillism painting with no structure. The ramp in front of him looks like it stretches for miles. Time to begin his trek to the ring, Alex at his side. Once through the ropes, Mike's comforted by its familiarity. The ring is the only thing that remains its usual size.

It all passes by so quickly. The match has long since started and Mike and John have already hit each other with their best moves. Each kicking out of what would normally be a guaranteed pinfall if it were any other night.

Though time deceives him, Mike knows they're nearing the end of the match. He's outside of the ring, standing in front of the barricade and he knows he can't stay there for long, he'll never win that way, but before he can make it to the squared circle, John charges him, sending him flying over the padded wall. Dazed, he manages to get up, motivated to get back into the ring before the ref starts a ten-count, but Cena charges towards him again sending him over a second barricade.

Blackness. A cruel joke perpetrated by time. It leaps over whole chunks of memory, leaving a void.

Mike lifts his heavy eyelids. Feels his arm outstretched, draped over someone's shoulder. The battered man breathes a sigh of relief as he looks to his right expecting to see Alex beside him. His stomach drops. It's one of the officials and they're walking up the ramp together, the distance in front of him a seemingly impossible feat.

Alex. Where's Alex? He tries to look around for his boyfriend but his head is pounding - the lights so bright, the crowd so loud. A song blasting through the thick air that isn't his own and he's worried at what that could mean.

With every step it feels like his brain is smashing against his skull. He drops his head, feeling like he's going to pass out, sees the shimmering of gold in his periphery. The ref is holding his title. He must have won somehow.

Black and white flashes barreling towards him now. He sees a flash of Cena coming at him, intending to tackle him, but no. False alarm. It's just one of the trainers. The man grinds to a halt in front of him and shines a blinding light in his eyes. He winces. That doesn't help his headache.

"Get him outta here!"

Screaming in his face doesn't help either.

Another official helps Mike so they can move faster and he's confused, wonders what happened, wonders where Alex is. The only thing that brings him any comfort at all is that he still has his title, but that pales in comparison to what should be next to him – to _who_ should be next to him.

**xxxx**

Alex is sprawled out on the padded floor outside the ring. He's supposed to be knocked-out, but he's not, that's just his role. He waits for Mike to win. There's a ding of the bell and Alex is sure that must be it, but Mike's music isn't playing. Something's wrong. The ring announcer declares a double count out. What the fuck? That's not how Mike was supposed to win. That's why he's on the floor, so no one could accuse him of interference. Legitimate pinfall. So there wouldn't be a shred of doubt in anyone's mind as to who deserves to be champion. That's how it was supposed to play out.

Alex wonders what happened, but he's not supposed to move. Suddenly, he hears The Rock's music hit, which also wasn't part of the plan, and then he hears the man's iconic voice echo throughout the stadium stating that the match will restart with stipulations of his choosing.

No disqualification, no count out, and no time limit.

With a view of the apron in front of him, Alex looks up to one of the large screens hanging in the Georgia Dome. He watches as The Rock hits Cena with his ever so popular finishing move, effectively knocking him out. Mike takes advantage of the opening, dragging his weak body over to Cena and, as if by instinct alone, he pins his opponent for the victory.

Alex is no doubt relieved that Mike has won and that he's standing to his feet, but he can tell something's still wrong. He's not sure what happened to cause the double count out, but it's clear Mike's in need of medical attention, or at the very least, a bed.

Watching. Waiting. Growing more concerned. The match is over, yet no one comes to his boyfriend's aid. Just as Alex is about to get up to help Mike, he hears the crowd roar, feels the stadium rumbling under his belly. Frantic focus darts to the screen and he sees The Rock hit Mike with two of his signature moves in succession. One of which results in Mike's head bashing into the canvas.

Alex is livid.

The Rock's music starts again and Alex gets up, sees one of the officials helping Mike up the ramp. That should be _him_ helping Mike. He rushes to his boyfriend, but by the time he gets near him, the ringside physician is looking him over with several trainers flanking them. Too many people blocking the path. One of the men even has the gall to tell Alex to stay back and give Mike space. Alex heeds the warning. If that's what's best for Mike then he has no other choice in the matter.

Once the group is backstage, Mike's whisked away. Alex is in a panic because all he's heard is the word _concussion_ being thrown around. He stops the first person he sees. "What happened out there?"

"You didn't see? Cena bulldozed Miz over the barricade, bashed his head into the concrete. It's a miracle he was even able to get up after that, let alone function long enough to finish out the match."

Alex catches his breath, had no idea it was that bad. He's frozen in place for a minute, maybe two. Snaps out of it when he hears someone mention Rock's name, looks up to see the man passing by. "Hey man, what the hell were you thinking out there?"

"You must not know who you're talking to."

"I know exactly who I'm talking to. Why would you hit Miz with a spinebuster when you saw what happened to him?"

"Just doing my job, kid." The Rock continues on his way, completely unaffected by the potential ramifications of an added head injury on top of the one Mike already suffered.

"He looked up to you-"

"Listen," the Rock says, turning to Alex. "I get that you're buddies with Miz, but this is business. I couldn't give a rat's ass about hurting the kid, but when he ends the biggest show of the year in a bitch ass double count out, you better believe McMahon would never let that happen. You need to get your head out of your ass."

The brazen Wrestlemania host walks away, leaving Alex irate and disgusted that anyone would ever treat Mike with such indifference, especially a titan of the industry who they've admired for years. But that's the least of his worries right now. He lets go of his disappointment and frustration concerning the Rock and rushes to the trainer's room to check up on Mike, but Mike is already gone. Been taken to the hospital, he's told. This only deepens his concern.

Having no time for a shower, Alex quickly gets dressed, collects his bag and Mike's bag and makes his way out of the bustling building and through a jammed packed parking lot. On a normal night, what would be a ten minute drive to the hospital, takes him a tedious hour.

On the verge of a light jog, Alex makes his way to the nurse's station. "I need to know what room Mike Mizanin is in."

"Are you family?"

"No, but he's my-"

"I'm sorry, sir, but only family members are permitted to see him at this time."

"Are you kidding me?!" Alex is loud, a startling tone.

"You can come back in the morning if you'd like. Visiting hours are from-"

"I don't give a shit about visiting hours!" Alex's outburst is accentuated with a slamming of his hands on the countertop, garnering everyone's attention. "Does anyone know what room Mike Mizanin is in?!" He shouts his question robustly, looking around, naively hoping someone will just say a number, but his only answer is silence. At this point, he's beyond exhausted and fed up with everyone around him trying to keep him away from his boyfriend. He turns his attention back to the woman in front of him. "That's my best friend in there! I just need to see him and make sure he's alright."

"Sir, please calm down or I'll have no choice but to call security."

Alex takes a deep breath, opting for a more civilized approach. "Can you just fill me in on his condition. How's he doing?"

The nurse hesitates, tilts her head slightly. "I can't give out that information," she says reluctantly.

Alex slams his hands on the countertop again. "_Fuck!_"

The nurse picks up the phone. Alex knows who she's about to call and he can't afford to get in trouble with anyone, lest he'd risk humiliating Mike once again, so he walks away. With the scene he's just caused, he's completely forfeited his option of staying in the waiting area and that just adds to his distress.

On his way back to the hotel, he leaves several voicemails for Maryse. Even though she's not family, he figures maybe she'll have more pull, since technically, she's his girlfriend and they might be willing to make an exception for her.

He scoffs at the idea of having to rely on her for anything regarding _his_ boyfriend, but he's willing to make any sacrifice if it could help Mike.

**xxxx**

It's the longest night of Alex's life. He can't sleep, all he does is toss and turn. Ends up calling the hospital asking them to patch him through to Mike's room but they tell him Mike needs to sleep and can't be disturbed. Once in a while he'll scream into his pillow to release the built up tension, grateful his roommate is taking advantage of all the after parties.

After hours of restlessness, fatigue finally forces Alex to sleep but it isn't for long. He awakens to discover his body soaked from a cold sweat. He's never experienced anything like it, not even when he had pneumonia a few years back. He sits up, the room bright enough for him to know the sun's already come out. At least he's that much closer to seeing Mike again. He peels off his wet shirt and shivers - the air conditioning hitting his moist skin. Decides to hop in a hot shower to alleviate the chill, but unfortunately it doesn't quell his anxiety.

Once he's finished and dressed, he picks up his phone to call the hospital again but there's a knock at the door requiring his attention. "Dumb shit forgot his key," he mutters, surprised his roommate's even back at all. He opens the door and his eyes light up, as does the darkness that had settled upon his life. The sight opposite him rivals the most breathtaking sunrise he can imagine. Standing before him is the reason his heart beats, the center of his universe.

Making sure not to overreact in the off chance that someone would happen to pass by his room at this precise moment, Alex clears the way for his boyfriend. He shuts the door and immediately turns to the guy, wrapping him up in a warm hug, gentle so as not to hurt his head anymore than it already is.

"Hi," Mike breathes with a fluttering laugh.

Alex titters, the sound of Mike's voice most comforting. Pulls away with a tender kiss to the man's unshaven cheek. "How are you? What'd they say?"

"I have a concussion. I've been forbidden to wrestle. They told me I have to take it easy for two, three weeks. Can't do much of anything until they clear me for action."

Alex sighs, feels bad for Mike because he knows how much his job means to him, but at the same time he's relieved it wasn't anything more serious. Realistically speaking, a few weeks out of the ring is a small price to pay for his health. "Are you allowed to kiss?"

Mike smiles. "Let's see." He leans in and kisses Alex sweetly. Tucks his chin in, pressing his forehead to Alex's.

"I was so worried about you. I wanted to be there with you. I would've been there all night with you if they would've let me."

"I know," Mike says. Feels the back of his head with the lightest touch. Let's out a faint groan.

"Baby, come sit down." Alex takes Mike by the hand and guides him to the bed. Hurries up and straightens out the comforter. They sit on the edge and Alex can't stop staring at Mike. Feels like he hasn't seen him in days. "I'm pissed. Rock had no right to do that to you."

"You're sweet," Mike says, rubbing Alex's thigh affectionately, "but you know he was just doing his job."

"You sound like _him_."

"You talked to him?"

"I sure did, gave him a piece of my mind…but I'm sure he thinks I'm an idiot now."

Thinking about Alex defending his honor to _The Rock_ makes Mike chuckle. Can only imagine what that conversation must have been like, and that leads him to his own experience with the man. "That was hands down the absolute coolest thing that's ever happened to me. A bona fide _'Mania moment_ with The Rock. One on one with the _Great One_." The champ lingers in the moment, a fixed smile in place. The stars aligned just for him. Knows full well if it was a year earlier or a year down the road, it never would've happened.

"My personal opinions about the _People's Champ_ aside," Alex says sarcastically, "I'm really happy you got your moment with him."

"I only wish I could remember it."

"What _do_ you remember?"

Mike takes a deep breath. "Let's see…I remember walking out with you." He takes Alex's hand, brings it up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. "That was intense. I remember hitting you with the briefcase." Finds that memory less appealing and shows it by holding Alex's head, pulls him close, a nudge of his shoulder. "Sorry, babe," he says, scratching his scalp. "And not much more after that."

"They told you what happened?"

Mike nods. "My mom did when she drove me back here."

"Well, I for one, think you were nothing short of heroic. You could have easily given up but you didn't."

"I think more than anything it was because of you. I don't think I could've done it if you weren't out there with me."

"Right. Big help I was, lying there pretending to be incapacitated when you were the one who was unconscious." Alex rolls his eyes, annoyed and disappointed that he didn't do something, do _anything_ to help him. He sighs and catches a glimpse of a large dark object out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, I forgot to tell you I have your suitcase if you wanna change your clothes or take a shower or somethin'."

"You mean I don't have to go back to my room and risk running into Maryse?"

Alex scoffs. "Maryse. Did she ever go to the hospital to see you last night?"

"I don't think so."

Alex checks his phone and huffs. "She never called me back either and I left her several messages asking her to check on you."

"Y'know, a shower sounds good actually," Mike says, regretting he ever brought up the woman's name. "And since we don't have to go anywhere, what do you say we lie down for a bit afterwards."

"Sounds perfect," Alex says, leaning in for a kiss.

While Mike's in the shower, Alex calls the front desk and requests a new set of sheets. He's still surprised his body had such an intense reaction to the anguish the stress of the situation stirred up in him. But soon, none of that matters anymore because he's fast asleep next to Mike - the guy's cheek to his breast, his arm across his chest. It's an easy sleep. A peaceful sleep because when Mike's next to him there's nothing to worry about.

Mike, on the other hand, drifts into a violent reenactment of the previous night's events. His head slams into the concrete with brutal force and unlike the actual incident, he's fully aware of the excruciating pain and this time there's blood. Lots of it. It cascades over his body like warm, red paint and he feels like he could drown in it. He reaches out to Alex with everything he has in him, but he can't reach him, which proves more painful than his head injury, and that's when he wakes up with a sudden jerk, squeezing Alex so tight it wakes him up, too.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

It takes Mike half a minute before he can catch his breath and is able to speak. "I have to talk to Maryse," he says, sitting up. The motion causing a blinding pain. What was once a throbbing headache is now a full blown migraine due to his nightmare.

"What? Right now? Why?"

Mike wipes his brow. "I had a real scare last night and I've put it off too long."

"Put what off? What are you talking about?"

"When I woke up in the hospital, you know what the first thing I thought about was? It was you and if something worse would have happened-"

"Don't talk like that. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"Don't be naïve, Alex. Anything can happen out there."

Alex almost believes he can feel the scar on the back of his head start to ache, presses his fingers to it. "I know. I know. You're right."

Mike knows why Alex is touching his head and he brings his own hand up to rub the raised spot instead. "As much as we train and try to avoid these things, accidents still happen. You couldn't stop yourself from being rammed into the guardrail and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from being plowed over it. If something worse would've happened to me last night, or God forbid anything happens to you and this is all we were left with…" Mike grimaces. "I can't live like this anymore."

**xxxx**

Mike enters the hotel room he's supposed to be sharing with Maryse and sees the woman walk over to her purse. "Can we talk?"

"Quick. I have a photo shoot I'm already late for."

"I just…" Mike watches as Maryse is walking around the room in a rush. The fast-paced motion makes him dizzy. "Can you stop moving for one second? This is important."

Maryse stops and looks at Mike heavily annoyed.

"Are you aware that I spent the night in the hospital?"

"How could I not? Alex left me a hundred messages."

"And you didn't think to call him back?"

"I have nothing to say to him," Maryse snaps, clutching her bag.

"Right." Mike squeezes the bridge of his nose. "And what about me?"

"If you're gonna be stupid enough to hit your head-"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Mike advances further into the room, his heavy steps mocking his condition. The strength of his prescription proving weaker with each dose.

Maryse throws her bag to the bed, turning to Mike with visceral contempt. "I see the way you look at him. I see the way you let him touch you, his arm brushing against you in the car. Your face would turn red. Like it is now," she sneers. "You think I don't notice when you sneak out of the bed in the middle of the night and the way he sneaks into ours? It's disgusting, Michael! _Dégoûtant!_"

"The only thing that's disgusting is how long I let myself be fooled by you! You never gave me a chance to get close to you and I found someone who actually cares about me, and what I want, and who can show me the kind of love I deserve!"

"Love?! You think he loves you?" Maryse tries to restrain her laughter. "He's using you, Michael. Everyone uses you and you let them because you're weak and insecure and once he gets what he wants he'll leave you."

"You don't know the first thing about him. You don't know what we have."

"I know what _you_ have. That gold around your waist. Once that's gone, so will he. I bet he'll even crawl back between Kelly's thighs again."

Mike squints with confusion, doesn't understand what Kelly has to do with anything.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Maryse laughs - deliberate mockery. Recalls the night she instructed Kelly to ask Alex out in order to gauge his interest in her. She doesn't tell Mike that she orchestrated the whole thing and she intentionally leaves out the part where Alex denied Kelly's advances, wants to plant a seed of doubt in the man's mind. "No, I suppose he wouldn't."

"You're full of shit. Why should I believe anything you say? Don't think I don't fucking know how you lied about the concert tickets. You let me think you got them for me and you _stood there_ and let me _thank_ you for them!" Mike is still outraged by her duplicity and it shows in his facial expression, in the sound of his voice.

"But I didn't let you fuck me." Maryse smirks sadistically. "So, how long did it take you to figure that one out. Let me guess, slow to the draw?"

"Oh that's right, it's my fault for actually wanting to believe my girlfriend!" Mike glares at the woman, his head throbbing painfully. He hasn't thought about their intimate past since he's been with Alex, but in remembering that night, it finally occurs to him that there must be another reason why she stopped having sex with him all those months ago and it has nothing to do with the lame excuse she used - and he fell for. "It was _all_ lies, wasn't it? Who have you been fucking?" At this point, it's mere curiosity on Mike's part, just wants answers; peace of mind.

"It's funny, for a while I actually felt guilty, but I got over it. You made it easy. One morning I forgot my lipstick and that's when I saw him walking into our room. The sun wasn't even up yet. But it doesn't matter. John's been good to me."

Mike bursts into hysterics, now he knows Maryse is lying. "Cena wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot poll!"

"Not Cena, _imbécile_."

Mike gulps, repulsed by the notion. Shakes his head in denial. "He wouldn't do that to Melina."

Maryse nods with superiority. "You mean he wouldn't do that to _you_."

"No. I've known Morrison for years and I know for a fact that he _would_ do that to me. Isn't it obvious that he's playing you? He's threatened to get back at me for breaking up our tag team for years now." Mike starts to chuckle at the woman's naiveté. "That's amazing."

Maryse shakes her head. "Then I guess it's his lucky day because when everyone finds out who you've had in _your_ bed, he'll get the last laugh."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Mike lunges at Maryse, points a threatening finger in her face, keeps his voice low and firm. "I'll go straight to Melina and tell her about you and Morrison-"

Maryse swipes Mike's hand out of her face, cackling. "You should already want to tell Melina. But you won't because you're not a good guy, Michael. You're selfish. You play the game just like everyone else and that's why you'd never tell her, because you don't want your dirty secret to come out. You want it all but what you've always failed to realize is that you can't have it all."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do want it all. And for that to happen, I wouldn't have to hide who I am. I _shouldn't_ have to hide who I am. So, go ahead, be a vindictive bitch and we'll see where _you_ end up."

"You expect me to believe that you'd throw everything away for _him_? For a man who's only using you to get a push."

Mike grits his teeth, ignoring the constant digs made about his boyfriend. "You can't even fathom what I would do for that man."

Maryse pretends to gag. "Spare me the visuals."

Mike scoffs. "Oh, that's cute."

"Y'know what. I won't say anything and because I already know you're too much of a coward to say anything either, you'll be stuck. Always hiding your joke of a relationship until he finally leaves your sorry ass and you truly have nothing."

"Alright. That's it! I'm so fucking sick of you! Get your fucking stuff and get out of my room!"

"_Tu es tellement stupide_," Maryse mumbles under her breath. "_Your_ room? It's under _my_ name."

**xxxx**

"How'd it go?" Alex asks, as Mike enters his room, suitcase in tow.

Mike rubs his head, really hopes his migraine is the reason why he wasn't able to defend himself as well as he could have under normal circumstances. "Not good, but it's over." He drags himself over to the bed and sits down. "She knows."

Alex tenses up.

"But she's not gonna say anything. You know why?"

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. "Why?"

"Because she's fucking Morrison!"

"No shit!" Alex is pissed Mike was betrayed in such a personal way. "I bet every time she said she was with Kelly, she was really with-" Suddenly he recalls a brief encounter with John outside Mike's hotel room months ago. "Mike?"

No response, Mike just holds his head.

"I think I saw them together once but I was so wrapped up in my own thing that I must have blocked it out or something. I can't believe I never told you about it. I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter. They can both go to hell. They deserve each other."

Alex can tell that's not the only thing bothering the guy. "Did something else happen?"

Mike looks up with sad eyes. "What happened with you and Kelly?"

"She didn't seriously bring that up."

Mike nods, even the slightest movement proves excruciating.

Alex sits next to Mike. "It was _one_ night. The night I was arrested. She asked me if I wanted to go out and babe, I wasn't in a good place and I said yes because I thought being with…a woman, _any_ woman would help me…" Alex scratches his head with both hands and exhales with jagged breath. "I thought it would help clear my mind and all the things I was feeling would go away. I hate the choices I made that night but nothing happened with her. I stopped it before it could. Maryse is just trying fuck with your head."

"Which is killing me," Mike sobs, cradling his throbbing head, trying to physically stop it from pounding.

Alex looks at his miserable boyfriend, hates seeing him in so much pain. "So, that's all your stuff then?" He points to Mike's suitcase even though Mike's eyes are closed.

"That's all of it."

"I'll tell you what," Alex says, lightly patting Mike on the knee as he gets up. "You lie down and rest and I'm gonna go get us a room."

As Alex turns for the door, Mike grabs his hand. Despite his severe discomfort, he stands to his feet and hugs him. "Thank you." He holds Alex and the way he's held in return assures him that there's not one thing Maryse said about the nurturing man that holds any weight.


	18. Unexpected Gifts

18. Unexpected Gifts

It's a special day, but unfortunately, it's coming to an end and Mike hasn't gotten to see Alex yet. It was mid-morning when he checked in, but he didn't have time to wait for Alex to arrive. Promotional obligations for the upcoming pay-per-view beckoned him. But now work is finished for the night. No house shows to attend; no meetings or events. He knocks on his hotel room door, wanting to surprise Alex if he can.

His plan works.

"You look nice," Mike says, complimenting his handsome boyfriend with a charming smile.

"Thanks." Alex blushes as he looks down to his chest like he's forgotten what he's wearing.

There's a moment of silence as they stand in the doorway of their shared hotel room, Mike drinking in the sight of the man. Everyday he's surprised to find Alex looking more attractive than he did the day before. It doesn't matter if he dresses down or dresses up, doesn't matter if he has the flu or is at the peak of health, it doesn't matter if he's sweaty and musky from his workout or if he's like he is now – clean shaven, wearing his favorite shirt, a new pair of sneakers and a dash of his favorite cologne.

Though the answer is obvious, Mike can't help asking. "Are you going out?"

Alex nods. "Cody asked me if I wanted to grab some drinks with him and some of the other guys."

"Okay then, have fun. Try not to wake me up when you get back." Mike's response is so chipper it catches Alex off guard. He's hurt, confused, offended even. Mike moves out of the way so Alex can leave and then moves in front of him again, dons a coy smile. "You thought I forgot!" He points his finger accusingly, mockingly. Almost proud that he was able to trick Alex.

"I didn't think you forgot."

"You should have seen the look on your face," Mike teases, gently squeezing Alex's face, forcing him to pucker up. He playfully kisses the guy as he's walking past him into the room. Spins around quickly so he's still facing him and giving him no time to argue further. "I have something for you."

"Does it have anything to do with whatever you've been _trying_ to hide behind your back this whole time?" Alex wears a coy smile of his own.

Mike cocks an eyebrow, his mouth contorting slightly as he attempts to conceal a telling smile. Realizes Alex may have just beaten him at his own game. "It might," he concedes, releasing his smile despite his efforts.

"You know how I feel about gifts, Mike." Alex crinkles his nose, mocking his boyfriend's stance on the subject. His eyes naturally wander to Mike's ass as the guy walks over and places a paper bag on the table.

"Yeah, I remember you _love_ them!"

Alex chuckles, so grateful to have the perfect sparring partner. He makes his way over to the table. Pulls out a warm pouch made of tin foil and places it on the crinkly paper bag. He opens it and is immediately hit with a mouth-watering aroma. All of a sudden he realizes just how hungry he is. "Barbeque ribs."

"I told you I'd remember."

Alex smiles.

"Yeah, we had our autograph signing next door to a joint that was cooking all afternoon and I had to see if their barbeque sauce was any good. If there was ever a day to blow off my diet…"

Flattered by his boyfriend's thoughtfulness, he leans over and kisses Mike. "Thank you," he whispers against soft lips.

"You're welcome," Mike breathes, returning the kiss.

Mike sits next to Alex and watches him eat. It doesn't take the guy very long before he starts humming, a clear indication that he's enjoying the food.

"There's something else." Mike comes across rather timid, his gut twisting.

Alex pulls the messy rib he's working on off to the side. "I don't need anything else," he replies with a sweet smile. "Just being here with you is enough, even without the food."

Mike takes a deep, quivering breath, holds it for a second before releasing it in a controlled manner. "They're gonna give it to Cena." His voice is quiet, too nervous to show how happy and relieved he is because of what this could finally mean for their relationship going forward.

Alex swallows thickly, suddenly becoming serious. "The title?"

Mike nods. "Uh huh."

Alex exhales and Mike can tell that he's relieved too, and now he feels confident about the situation. The enormous pressure that had been bestowed upon him for the last five months has finally been taken away. The relief he feels is overwhelming. His eyes start watering and he's quick to wipe the moisture from the outer corner before a proper tear can form.

"Vince called me a little while ago to talk about the new direction of the storyline. Basically, he's just passing the torch back to Cena." Mike automatically reaches over and grabs a rib - his stomach suddenly feeling much better and the ribs too good to pass up.

"When?"

"This Sunday at the pay-per-view. We're having that triple threat match, y'know. In a cage." Mike rolls his eyes. "Fucking Morrison's gonna be in it, too, so I have to meet with him and Cena tomorrow to come up with a game plan."

"Did he say anything about me being there? With me being drafted to Smackdown over the weekend and then having to go do promotion without you today, I didn't know if-"

"He mentioned you," Mike interrupts, can't hold that good news in any longer. "He said you're gonna be there with me and that he's about to pitch creative a really good storyline he's been holding onto for the two of us."

Alex is encouraged by the news. "He said that?"

"I think he's gonna make us a tag team." Mike's delivery is soft and his sweet smile is infectious. "I just think with the way the company's always talking about reviving the tag division, he'd be crazy not to put us in there, right? We'd bring new life to the titles and plus, as a tag team we'd still be together without being overexposed the way we are now. It'd be perfect for us."

Alex nods in agreement and hopes Mike is right. It sounds right. Quietly, he finishes his last couple of tasty bites and looks up to Mike who's stolen the last of the ribs.

Mike crumples his napkin up with his left hand, the remnants of barbeque sauce he wasn't able to lick off his fingers covering it. He reaches over to Alex with his messy right hand. "Can you hand me another napkin?"

Knowing he already used up the last one, and perhaps even doing so completely on purpose, Alex takes Mike's wrist in his hand and leans in. Slowly laps up the sticky sauce coating each of Mike's fingers, looking up to him to gauge his reaction.

Mike rests his chin against the palm of his clean hand, his knuckles concealing his mouth so he can hide the fact that his jaw is quivering. But it doesn't matter because Alex can see the emotion in his eyes - the way he's silently yearning for more. Alex places a kiss on Mike's palm and then to the inside of his wrist before standing to his feet. He pulls Mike into him by his wrist and embraces him tightly as they kiss. As much as he loves barbeque sauce, it's quickly demoted to only the second best thing he's tasted all day.

In all these months, the pair have never felt as free as they do now. Nothing's holding them back, there's nothing in their way. Maryse is no longer a threat, Mike's concussion is no longer an issue and in three days' time, the attention of the world will be placed upon the _new_ WWE Champion.

It's as if they've finally been given permission to enjoy each other in the way they've always wanted to. No force is powerful enough to keep them from what they deserve.

There's a fierce desire in Alex to rip off Mike's clothes, but after months of patience, he's determined to make every second count, to treat Mike the way he ought to be treated. He takes his time unbuttoning Mike's shirt as if he's unwrapping a delicate present. A present he's been waiting a lifetime for. He's seen Mike's chest a thousand times before, but never has it been _his _the way it is right now. He watches it rise and fall as Mike breathes heavily and he knows everything Mike is feeling because he's feeling it too. He slides the man's shirt over the curvature of his shoulders and lets it fall to floor.

Mike feels Alex's warm mouth on his shoulder and his hands running across his hardened nipples and down to his belly. He tilts Alex's face back to his own and kisses him deeply as he unbuttons his top. Instead of letting it fall to the floor, he drapes it neatly on the back of the chair so he doesn't accidentally step on the cherished article of clothing.

This simple act of consideration manages to turn Alex on even more. "I want you so much," he moans, tugging at his boyfriend's belt.

The clamoring of the metal buckle sends shivers down Mike's spine. As soon as his jeans land on the carpet, he's kicking out of them and removing Alex's jeans. He gropes the guy's obscenely perfect ass and pulls him in until there's no space left between them.

They shuffle to the bed. Alex crawls towards Mike as the guy situates himself, propping his head against feather pillows. He creates a trail of sensual kisses from Mike's lips down to his hips. And when he grips the only remaining piece of clothing Mike's wearing, he continues the wet descent down Mike's thigh and to his knee, slowly removing his boxer briefs. When Mike's completely naked, Alex pauses, besotted by the sight. Locks onto the bright blue eyes that never cease to enrapture him. "I'll never get tired of looking at you."

Mike indulges Alex for a moment and then he nudges the man's belly with his toes. Alex captures Mike's foot, brings it up to his mouth and kisses it. Mike laughs because it tickles and also because he never imagined Alex kissing his feet. Alex giggles too and releases Mike's foot beside him as he moves forward, hovering over his lover's waiting body. Mike grabs Alex's face to bring him down into a passionate kiss, but just as he does, the two are interrupted by an inconvenient vibration from the nightstand.

Alex sighs, immediately knows what that sound was. "I'm sorry." He rolls over to the side of the bed and sees that he's received a text from Cody wondering if he was still interested in grabbing some drinks.

Finding it unbelievably hard to keep his hands off Alex, Mike follows him to the edge of the bed, runs his fingers down the man's smooth back. Alex can hardly concentrate on what he's texting, his clumsy fingers pressing the wrong buttons as Mike traces the outline of his tattoo. Declining Cody's offer takes longer than Alex had anticipated - Mike now opting to use his lips instead. He adorns the length of Alex's back with a plethora of suckling kisses and then removes the last bit of _his_ clothing revealing an ass so delicious he's tempted to take a bite out of it.

Alex is immobilized by the way Mike's nibbling on him. It takes a considerable amount of willpower to force himself to finish the incredibly short message that's taking entirely way too long to send, but he manages _somehow_. Sets the ringer to silent and places his phone back on the table.

An aching whimper escapes into the room. That's not Mike's lips anymore, not even his teeth. It's more intense. The warm, wet sensation slides from the center of his ass up to his lower back - his body trembling in response.

When Mike realizes that Alex is finally done fiddling with his phone, he rolls him over by his hips and is presented with an impressive and somewhat intimidating sight. But any reservations he may have had about this moment vanish because all he wants to do is make Alex feel good and make him feel loved.

Not having any experience on _this_ side of things, Mike tries his best to imitate what has always worked on him in the past. He hopes he isn't making a fool out of himself, but he's willing to bet Alex is so starved for this kind of intimate contact that anything he does will suffice. And he's right.

Alex combs his fingers through Mike's faux hawk and every time they make eye contact, it pushes him that much closer to the edge. But soon he can't even find the strength to open his eyes and the way he shudders under Mike's control tells his boyfriend that he isn't doing a damned thing wrong so Mike keeps going until Alex loses it completely.

Alex covers his face with his hands, can't believe what just happened, and on a level of excellence that merits its own award no less.

Mike looks up to Alex, encouraged by his reaction and he can't help but be pleased with the work he's just done. "Happy birthday?"

"Oh my God yes come here," Alex slurs, still trying to catch his breath. He reaches for either side of Mike's face and guides him towards his mouth to give him the biggest kiss of appreciation he can muster. He tastes himself on the guy's gifted tongue and feels Mike's erection grind against his hip. He pauses for a second, admiring the loving expression on his boyfriend's face. "Make love to me."

Mike's smile drops and he shakes his head. "We don't have to-"

"I want to."

Mike sighs thickly.

Without a word Alex already knows the cause of his boyfriend's trepidation. "I'll be okay. Just take it slow." He pulls Mike down into a tender kiss. "I have something in my bag you can use," he suggests softly, running his thumb over Mike's parted lips.

"Really?!" Mike exclaims, excessively surprised, caught off guard even that Alex is already prepared. He's even more surprised by his own reaction seeing as how shortly after Valentine's Day, he scheduled a doctor's appointment and even though he was confident that he'd be in the clear, he submitted himself to all the appropriate tests anyway to ensure there wouldn't be even the smallest trace of doubt when he finally found himself in the position he's currently in.

Alex blushes, rolls his eyes playfully. "Just go get it," he nudges with a charming smile. Mike pecks him on the lips and hops off the bed.

Alex watches Mike as he rummages through his bag. He chews on his bottom lip, his nerves starting to show, but he trusts that Mike will take care of him. Mike disappears into the bathroom and emerges with a towel in hand. He's a man on a mission and Alex can't help the smile that's tucked away in the corner of his mouth just thinking about how cute the guy is.

Mike climbs back into bed, sits on his heels as he tosses the towel aside and holds a condom up into Alex's line of sight. The expression on his face silently asking if one's required or even necessary. He feels ridiculously inexperienced and the discussion he always meant to have with Alex becomes no more than a couple short sentences exchanged between the two.

"We could use it if you want," Alex says. "But I'm good. I'm healthy…Clean."

"Me too." Mike's visibly relieved that there's one less obstacle between where they are and where they long to be. It becomes a matter of preference at this point.

Alex sits up and reaches for the bottle of lubricant Mike had also grabbed from his bag and hesitates for a brief second. The look in his eyes reminds Mike of the morning he shaved his face. The same consideration he showed for him then, like he wanted to make sure it was okay before proceeding, is the look he's met with now and of course it's okay. It's preferred.

Mike doesn't break eye contact with Alex, but he can tell what he's doing. Hears the cap open, hears the cap snap shut and then he feels a strong, wet hand grip him for the first time. He gasps. Then he feels another hand traveling up the length of his thigh and dipping down between his parted legs. This second layer of pleasure brings him so much warmth - Alex's hot hand cupping him, massaging him with just the right amount of pressure. Mike's body starts to rise and he has trouble focusing as Alex combines the two techniques into one overly satisfying sensation.

Reveling in the way Mike responds to his touch, Alex leans in and adds a third layer in the form of nipping kisses to his chest. Captures salty flesh between his teeth and tugs. Moves up further to suck on his neck and then his chin and leans up further yet to kiss him on the mouth. But there's too much distance and Alex is barely able to reach Mike's bottom lip, but the instant he can, he grabs hold of it; tugs on it with his teeth, Mike's breath hot and heavy on him.

Mike feels Alex's hand slide from base to tip once more, his thumb rounding the most sensitive area and then the contact is gone. He opens his eyes to find Alex on his back waiting for him to come down to his level, which he does. He moves in closer, positions himself precisely where he needs to be, but he tenses up. Can't move. Then when he finally does, it's not what Alex was expecting.

Mike's weight falls heavy to his elbow, his head falling into his hand. "Damn it," he breathes.

"What is it?"

Mike shuts his eyes tight, winces with embarrassment. "I feel like a virgin all over again." His whisper is so low his words of self-doubt are almost inaudible - like he's afraid _the room_ is going to hear him, and judge him.

Alex feels Mike's breath trembling against his ear. "I know," he says empathetically, his words just as faint as Mike's. "But it's okay." He rubs Mike's arm hoping to lend some comfort, some encouragement, and then turns into him, kissing his cheek tenderly. "I'm right here with you."

Mike shifts his weight to his forearms so he can look into Alex's eyes. "You are, aren't you?"

Alex's eyes start watering, overcome by the significance of the moment and what's about to happen, and when Mike enters him the welling turns into actual tears.

Mike goes slow like Alex instructed and like he already knew to do. It's just a little bit, but it already feels like he's being rejected by Alex's body as it tries to stave off such an awkward intrusion. Only a little more and he can clearly see the toll it's taking on his boyfriend and he can _feel_ it, the way Alex's hands are on his hips pushing against his advancement. Not that he means to, it's just reflex.

Mike pauses, wants to allow his partner time to absorb this foreign feeling. "Just breathe, baby," he whispers and Alex releases the breath he'd been holding. Within seconds, Mike feels the man's body relaxing under him, and around him to a slighter extent. Wipes the tear tracks from Alex's temples. "Are you okay?"

Alex nods, turns his head and kisses the inside of Mike's wrist seeking comfort where he always finds it. He really doesn't mean to cry. It's definitely not something that was ever written into any of his fantasies about their first time. The presence of such an unexpected emotion is in part due to a jolt of pain he's experiencing, but mostly it's from having waited so long to be _here_ and finally arriving. It's proving to have a great effect on Alex, much more than he thought possible.

Mike is careful. He's patient and conscientious, really takes his time to make sure that Alex is as comfortable as possible. Doesn't want to be too presumptuous, but he doesn't need to be. Alex suddenly shifts his hands to his lover's tight ass, groping him, guiding him further inside his stubborn body and Mike had thought he had some semblance of control, but not so much in this moment.

The intensity of Alex surrounding him has Mike lying flat on top of him, submerging his face into the edge of the pillow Alex is using. Never in his life has he felt anything so powerful – physically, emotionally – it's just overtaking everything, rewriting everything he's known to be true. Nothing he experiences in life will ever again be measured on the same scale.

He turns his cheek to the outside of Alex's shoulder as he draws a breath. The coolness of the room hits his face, counteracting the heat blanketing his body. The moment of relief doesn't last very long. Mike buries his face into the pillow again, his forehead digging into it as he's received. He runs his hand haphazardly over Alex's face, so he can still see him while he's not looking at him and as the adjustment period comes to an end, for both men, Mike finds the strength he needs. The two engage in a passionate kiss and then Mike finds a new resting place for his forehead - pressing against Alex's forehead. He doesn't even want to blink, just wants to stare into Alex's eyes as they start moving with each other, certainly not feeling like virgins anymore.

Alex begins feeling the benefits of his role and Mike couldn't be more satisfied in his, until he is. That level of satisfaction increasing as their time together progresses and finally it hits an incredible peak that exists much higher than Mike could've imagined.

Still basking in the residual effects, Mike spends a few extra moments kissing his lover for the gift he's just been given and then rolls off of him. The pair look to the ceiling, heaving messes as they regain brain function. Mike looks to Alex and Alex to Mike. And for a second it's as if neither know how they should respond to what they just did and then Alex cracks a smile that sends Mike into a boisterous laugh. A laugh of enormous relief and joy. Mike's infectious jubilance instantly sends Alex into an equally joyful laughing fit of his own.

Mike comes down from his second high and then cleans them off the best he can before collapsing on the bed again. "I'm so happy," he says, reaching for Alex's hand. "You make me so happy."

Alex raises Mike's hand to his lips and reciprocates the sweet words with a kiss. Mike lies there, his body still except for the way his fingers are flirting with Alex's fingers. Contentment tries to lull the couple into a peaceful sleep, but they've only just been introduced to this new way of enjoying each other's company, so sleep is the last thing either want to do, so they ward off the urge.

"You wanna hear something stupid?"

"Yes, but only if it's _really_ stupid 'cause if it's not then I don't wanna hear it."

Mike giggles and then takes a breath. "I wasn't too sure about how that was gonna go over," he admits. "I was afraid we waited so long that it was gonna be a let down or we'd find out we didn't like it." Mike sounds almost as if he's asking a question, his uncertainty of Alex's response apparent.

Alex hesitates with his reply. Thinks about how the experience was the complete opposite of Mike's fears and then he looks over to his boyfriend with the smile he knows is so comforting. "It all worked out. So much so that I wish we hadn't waited as long as we did."

"Me too." Mike rolls towards Alex. Folds his arm under his head, rests his cheek on the backside of his hand. "But it was worth the wait."

Alex rolls over onto his side. Props his head up with the palm of his hand, stabilized by his elbow. "_You _were worth the wait." He caresses Mike's face, looks down into his loving eyes. "You'll always be worth the wait."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did it feel?" Mike asks with an endearing curiosity.

Alex bites his bottom lip thinking about the proposition he's compelled to make and without further consideration and seemingly unaffected by the soreness of his body, he rolls Mike over onto his back, pinning him to the mattress, cradling his head in his palms. His nakedness greeted with Mike's roaming hands in an instant. "I could show you," he offers, seduction dripping off every syllable.

Mike giggles but it's less out of amusement and more of a sound a man completely turned on would make. He can feel Alex hard against him ready to go. All he has to do is say the word. "Okay."

Permission granted.

Alex kisses Mike deeply, moves against him sensually. His sex recharging the guy until he's pressing back with the same eagerness. He takes his time, wants to build up the anticipation, wants to make Mike feel uniquely special. "Your body's incredible," he moans as he moves his lips to Mike's neck, across his clavicle and down to his chest; wonders how he's even able to last with such a remarkable creature under him.

"Nothing compared to yours," Mike slurs. Every inch of him moves with such ease under Alex. A graceful writhing. Poetic. Involuntary. Possessed. He can't control his response to Alex's touch, although Alex would swear he's just responding to Mike's touch. And both would be right.

Mike's whole body is activated by the impassioned form of expression, each area having its own role to play. Feet rubbing against Alex's calves and down to his ankles. Hands migrating to that stunning ass. His fingers swiping the slick space between his full cheeks on their way up to a broad back. He rounds his shoulders, travels over pronounced triceps on his way to forearms and down to his wrists, gripping them. His chest arches up into the man, and then his pelvis mimics the movement. Their hard, sweaty lengths grind against one another and again Alex doesn't know how he's able to last.

Mike is so involved in the erotic dance that he doesn't notice the few seconds Alex pulls away but he certainly notices when Alex's hand is between his legs, fingers coated with a slippery wetness like before, but this time he doesn't focus on Mike's penis. He applies pressure with his middle finger, just a little bit and then a little more. Mike squirms under Alex as he slowly penetrates him.

"Does that feel good?"

Mike winces awkwardly. "It feels…weird."

Alex angles his finger slightly differently causing Mike to whimper involuntarily, his eyelids fluttering. He strums that same spot again.

"Fuck!" Mike exclaims and Alex knows he's found the hidden spot he was aiming for. He stimulates it; Mike panting, his legs trembling, and still he's only experiencing a fraction of what Alex felt and only a fraction of what he _will_ feel.

Sounds he heard only in his fantasies come alive and the array of notes Mike hits are so much more pleasing to the senses than Alex could have hoped for. He kisses Mike passionately as he gradually increases his efforts; feels Mike melt into the discomfort.

Growing impatient, Mike stretches out his arms, not quite reaching the sides of the bed. He grasps the sheets in clenched fists, undulates against the current. Thrashes his head from side to side as he thrusts himself into Alex's digits and he can't take it anymore. Breathless and insistent, he begs for the real thing - his plea buried inside his lover's name.

Alex fulfills Mike's demand within seconds and still that was too long to make his lover wait. Mike grabs onto Alex so tight. Pulls his knees up beside Alex's ribs; his legs wrapped securely around the girth of the man. And then Alex stops whether Mike wants him to or not, feels the response of Mike's spasm-laden body and assumes it feels similar to what his own body felt like when Mike was inside of _him_. Alex lowers his face into the crook of Mike's neck, sucking on him, tasting him in the interim. This event they're experiencing together _again_ only manages to bring them that much closer. Alex literally feels like Mike is an extension of himself and therefore will treat him as such.

He lies in Mike's embrace, his boyfriend doing so much work on him, milking him even as they're visibly stagnant. A few long seconds, maybe close to thirty, elapse in this intimate holding pattern before Alex begins moving again and Mike with him. A thousand promises made with that first proper thrust. A thousand more and a thousand after that. He works up a steady rhythm, one with a deep burn, one that Mike finds quite agreeable, one that they get lost in.

"If I could live here…" Mike murmurs, looking into Alex's eyes, completely intoxicated by his affection and undivided attention. He wipes away the beads of sweat that form on his boyfriend's forehead, wouldn't want the salty moisture to sting the man's eyes. Alex kisses Mike with such love, fully aware of the reasons why the guy does the things he does.

They tumble across the bed, Mike shifting his weight on top of Alex. His kiss intensifies as he lies flat on top of the guy, extending his legs behind him for a moment, squeezing Alex with a vise-like grip. Alex moves his hands to Mike's ass, feels his muscles flex and seize.

Never wanting this to end, Alex spins Mike onto his back again and levels out their ascent. He pushes their climax just out of reach by dramatically changing his tempo, pulling almost all the way out with a roll of his hips and easing back in with another. It's slow, almost agonizingly so, but Mike doesn't mind; he invites all variations of Alex's technique. Wants to go everywhere Alex is willing to take him.

Alex continues pulling back at an ache-inducing pace and then he catches Mike off guard when he rams into him. The masculine yelp ripping from the base of Mike's throat encourages Alex to repeat the motion over and over and then suddenly it's swift, shallow thrusts and then it's quick and deep with Alex slamming into the mark every single time.

It's a journey through the cosmos. Stars forming and colliding and exploding. A brilliant burst of color raining down around him; colors that the human eye has never seen, colors that no living creature has earned the privilege to name. Mike is just about crawling out of his skin, his body screaming for the orgasmic deliverance that will take him home, if only to experience the trip again and again.

"Ah-ah-Alex-don't stop," Mike begs, grabbing and clawing at the man's back. His plea becomes a slur of random expletives and then there are no discernable words that spill out of his mouth, only moans and groans and growls that can only be associated with the demand of absolute fulfillment his body craves. Besides, Alex wouldn't be able to understand anything Mike said anyway, his body overcome by a primitive force of its own, a force that warms Mike from within and with an additional twitch of his hips, Mike joins him, coating their bellies with _his_ warmth.

Alex is completely exhausted, but he still finds the energy to kiss Mike a bit longer before slipping to his lover's side. Leaves an arm crossed over the guy's chest and the corresponding leg draping over Mike's thigh and they just lay there in the remnants of their second round of shared ecstasy.

Alex opens his eyes, realizes he must've fallen asleep, but he doesn't know for how long. Although he soon comes to the conclusion that it's only been a couple hours because when he looks at the big red numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand, it's two hours shy of midnight.

Cracking patches of hardened _dryness_ on his body prompts Alex to get up and clean himself off.

Mike awakens to Alex wiping his stomach with a dampened cloth. He goes to sit up and his body quickly rejects the motion. He yelps impulsively as he falls back.

Alex grimaces, can hardly tolerate Mike experiencing any kind of pain. "I'm really sore too," he says, his voice hoarse, tired. He moves the washcloth down past Mike's bellybutton. "You mind?"

"I think we know each other well enough now," Mike teases, parting his legs without inhibition. He winces as another sharp zap of pain shoots up his spine.

Alex finishes cleaning Mike up and hurries to get back into bed with him. He pulls the sheets down and Mike crawls underneath, Alex curling up right beside him. "So, I never got to ask you."

"Ask me what?"

"How _you_ thought it felt."

"Oh," Mike coos, turning into Alex's chest and wrapping his arm across the muscular frame he now knows so intimately well.

Alex nudges his boyfriend. "So, how'd it feel?"

"It hurt at first," Mike admits candidly and Alex brings his hand up to hold the one resting against his chest, his other hand rubbing the side of Mike's head soothingly. "But it was the best kind of hurt," he continues, placing a kiss on the warm flesh beneath his cheek. "And then it kind of just melted away, but it added a richness to the whole thing that couldn't have been there otherwise. Like, feeling the pain first made me more aware of how good the rest of it felt. It made me appreciate the pleasure so much more. Does that make sense?"

Alex nods.

"And I felt you all around me and inside me. I felt like I was being devoured and consumed; deconstructed and reinvented by you all at the same time. Like I was being discovered for the first time in my whole life. And I felt like I was being transported to a secret world with you and I never wanted to leave. I don't know how you did it, but you had a way of surrounding me…both times."

Alex hums in agreement. "That sounds about right," he breathes, squeezing Mike. "Thank you for giving me my favorite birthday."

Mike looks up to his contented boyfriend. "Thank you for giving me my favorite _day_."

Alex giggles. "Me too." He's hardly able to keep his eyes open. Wants to fall asleep with Mike in his arms, but at the same time, he wants to keep living this night as long as it lasts.

"You're so tired, baby," Mike whispers, petting Alex's cheek. "You can go to sleep now." He runs his fingers like feathers over Alex's eyelids, down the bridge of his nose, over his mouth. Sweeps his fingers along Alex's strong jaw line, lightly holds his throat on his way down to his collarbone and over to his shoulder; his touch lulling Alex to sleep and soon he joins him, but the night is far from over. Not being able to get enough of each other, no matter how sore or tired they are, the new lovers continue waking up every hour or so, reenergized, ready to enjoy and explore each other in every way.


	19. The Morning After

19. The Morning After

Light. Alex winces. It's light out.

The events of the night before come rushing back, slowly at first and then like a tidal wave inundating him. No wonder he slept in.

His body feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. His lips are chapped and his body sore, yet he's never felt better. He glances to the center of the bed and there's Mike, still sound asleep, wrapped up in his own blanket of bliss. Alex wouldn't dare wake the man - would much rather him wake up naturally, just as _he_ was allowed to do.

Alex realizes he could lie there and watch Mike dream, which is something he would no doubt love to do, but he knows he'd be too tempted to touch him, or kiss him, or fucking talk like a moron, so instead, he decides it would be more productive to fetch some food while the continental breakfast is still available. His stomach starts to growl at the mere thought of food, so he gets dressed as quickly and quietly as possible. Before he heads downstairs to the lobby he grabs the trays that sit under the stacks of complimentary paper cups - one by the coffee maker, the other by the ice bucket. It's an old trick one of his college buddies let him in on years ago, allowing him to optimize his food gathering technique. He _is_ fetching for two now after all.

With a silly grin plastered across his face, Alex piles as much food onto his tray that will fit. He feels judgmental eyes upon him as he balances everything. He's not sure if it's the amount of food drawing the unwanted attention or the fact that he's actually using a tray...or two trays to be more specific. No one else has a tray, but he can't help it if he's so clever. Either way, he figures he's a _wrestler_, a _workout fiend_. He has the perfect excuse why he needs so much food, right? Besides, last time he checked there wasn't a limit on how much food one could take…at least he hopes so.

Needless to say, the unwelcome glares continue their silent harassment as he sets one tray on top of the other. The bottom layer holding fruit and four cartons of milk lying on their side, the top layer holding styrofoam plates of scrambled eggs and waffles and lastly two bowls of oatmeal balancing even higher. It's a ridiculous amount of food, and an even more ridiculous sight. But Alex didn't get to where he is by being self-conscious, and soon he's heading back to his slumbering lover with a hot breakfast in tow and that's all that counts.

As he's walking down the long stretch of hallway back to his room, Alex happens across one of his least favorite people named John. He can tell the guy just came from the gym by how incredibly sweaty and out of breath he is. "Hey, Cena." He nods respectfully, even though he'd much rather just ignore the guy.

"That's an awful lot of food you've got there." John chuckles knowingly, almost mockingly.

Alex tries to rush past, already regretting his decision to acknowledge the man. "Y'know, gotta load up on carbs."

"Right," John replies with a sarcastic smile. "Hey, hold up a sec, will ya?"

Alex raises his eyebrows. Hesitantly and reluctantly he turns back towards John. If it were any other morning, he might actually humor John's request, and even fake a smile doing so, but John's timing couldn't be worse and Alex doesn't hide his annoyance.

John looks up and down the hall as if to make sure they're alone. Alex finds the man's behavior a bit strange and is getting even more frustrated that it's taking him so long to speak. Huffs impatiently. "What is it, Cena?"

"There's no real way to make this _not_ awkward, so I guess I'll just come out with it."

"Please do."

"I want to apologize for making those jokes about you and Miz back in February."

"Oh, but there were so many," Alex says facetiously. "Any jokes in particular?"

"Yeah, actually. The ones about the two of you being co-champions. Ring a bell?"

Alex laughs, though he's not amused. "Right. Moving in together and whatnot. How could I forget. You're a real riot."

"Okay," John says slowly, trying to ignore the unnecessary insult. "In that case, you must remember then how you were fired that night after our cage match, right?"

"Vaguely," Alex answers, ridiculing the successful superstar with squinty eyes.

"Well, you see, I've been thinking about what happened then and what I know now…" and the way John says _now_ has a way of infuriating Alex. "And I promise you I was just joking at the time but I think what I said got the wheels in McMahon's head spinning and that was never my intention."

"I feel like _my_ head is spinning. What are you getting at?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why you were fired that night? I mean, it came out of left field, completely out of the blue, don't ya think?"

Alex shrugs. "I was gonna be repackaged. No big deal. It happens."

"Yes, but _why_ would Vince want to do that? You were on your way with Miz. And as much as it pains me to admit it, you two made a good pair. You worked."

"Uh, thanks."

John purses his lips, trying to hold back his frustration with the dense man in front of him. "You really got a thick skull, don't you, Riley? Do I have to spell this out for you?"

"Well, fuckin' say something 'cause I'm starving and my food's getting cold." _And Mike's waiting all naked!_

"Bottom line, I overheard Vince talking about you. I had a meeting scheduled with him yesterday but I got there early and I could hear him on the phone with someone. I don't know who. It probably doesn't matter. But he mentioned your DUI and how you were never punished accordingly. Something about your boy interfering with your impending suspension back then. And so he was gonna send you down for repackaging back in February as a way to punish you, to make up for what he couldn't do last November, but Miz stepped in…_again_…and now he's the one who's gonna pay for what _you_ did."

Alex stands there dumbfounded and then smirks. "You've really got an active imagination, Cena."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying?"

"Oh I heard you. But what's even crazier than this ridiculous scenario you've just laid out is the fact that you actually expect me to believe that you'd go behind McMahon's back to tell me this. You're the chosen one. You hate me, you hate Miz."

"We both know if I actually hated Miz, I would've proven it at Wrestlemania. I had the perfect chance to screw him over, but I didn't. I don't have it out for either one of you, but the old man does. He couldn't punish you because of Miz's clout and because you were about to fuck up his storyline for Miz, something he probably spent a _year_ working towards, and maybe when Miz went to him for a second time _vouching for your sorry ass_," John stresses, "he must have put two and two together, _just like I did_." John holds a look, letting that fact sink in before continuing. "So my guess is that Vince came to the conclusion that firing you does no good because Miz will always have your back and I think he's gonna go a different route, try a new approach this time. It's not about getting rid of you anymore, it's about legitimately punishing you. And if I was a betting man, which let's face it, I am, I'd bet that he's gonna do that by keeping you away from what you want and this triple threat match on Sunday is just the beginning."

"But I'm not the one losing the title," Alex reminds John, the tone of his voice rife with sarcasm and condescension.

John grits his teeth. "No, but the title isn't what you want, is it?"

It takes a second for Alex to process what John is trying to convey and when he does, chills shoot up his spine. His hand trembles. He looks down and braces the wobbling trays with his other hand to steady them and the sight of the food nauseates him. No way is Cena implying what he thinks he is.

"See, he's not as oblivious to what's going on here as you might like to think he is. He's going to humiliate him to hurt you, to get back at you and hell, probably to get back at him for saving your delinquent ass so many times. And not only is McMahon gonna humiliate him, I wouldn't be surprised if he-"

"I've heard enough, Cena. You don't know what he's gonna do. He can barely keep the show on track from week to week as it is. And besides, there's no rule about-"

"He's trying to punish you," John interrupts, rolling his eyes. "And if he can't do it outright, he'll do it indirectly and Miz will get caught in the crossfire."

"No, no, you got it all wrong." Alex pauses, starts to lose momentum. "We're gonna be a tag team." Pauses again to take a deep breath. "That's the plan," he shares sheepishly and now he's starting to show genuine vulnerability.

"You're gonna be the furthest thing from a tag team when he's done with you."

"You son of a bitch. You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about."

"Face it, Riley. I'm always gonna have something you never will," Cena taunts, fed up and unwilling to put up with Alex's attitude any longer. "I got to tag with Miz longer than you could ever dream about. Not to mention the titles we held for all of five minutes." John laughs, amused by his arrogant wit. "And that's five minutes longer than the two of you will ever be champions together."

"Fuck you! You don't know shit about-"

"You listen to me, son," John says seriously and with stern authority. "I have a substantial number of years on you and you should know by now how long a year can be in this business, how much you learn and God knows I've picked up more than a few things over the course of mine. I know when Vince McMahon is trying to get back at someone for embarrassing him and you've done just that, on more than one occasion, so right now you're his main target. Enemy number one. And since I happen to feel a tad bit guilty for the part I played in this whole mess back in February, _because_ it was unscripted, completely off the cuff and _my_ doing, choosing a cheap laugh over respect for your privacy, I needed to at least warn you about what's comin' around the bend because clearly, you've been a bit preoccupied as of late. Miz and I may have our differences but he's a good kid. I see that. He does a lot for this company and maybe it's for selfish reasons, maybe I'll sleep better tonight having gotten this off my chest but either way, it's on you now. It's up to you how far you're willing to let this go."

Alex is furious. "You finished?"

"Mark my words," Cena adds, "McMahon will ruin Miz from inside that squared circle. But this time, maybe _you_ can save _him_. A bit of redemption, perhaps. It has a nice symmetry to it, wouldn't you say?"

Alex is silent for a few seconds, taking in Cena's petulant, yet ominous warning. And when he opens his mouth to speak, there's only one thing he can think to say. "I would never leave him," he insists confidently, openly choosing to admit the truth about his relationship with Mike, a truth Cena already seems to know all about.

John tilts his head, smiling with condescension. He knows Alex's words are just that - words. And maybe he _thinks_ he believes what he's saying but in the end his actions will speak louder than any words he can say. "Never say never."

"Tell me, John, have you ever been in love?"

"I'm married, you idiot."

"Yes, but have you ever been in love?" Alex reiterates the question with a forceful attack on each word. "I'm talking about not feeling like something is real until you share it with this person, not even wanting to look at anyone else as long as you're _breathing_ and the only reason you're even breathing is because this person exists. Believing this person was put on the planet specifically so you could find them and love them. And somehow your stupid, feeble, waste of a life suddenly has meaning. Have you ever felt that? Like you'd give your life for this person? And sacrifice every bit of your happiness for _their_ complete happiness?"

"Well, it looks like we're on the same page then."

Alex's eyes widen, his face turning even redder.

"You said it yourself, Riley. You know what has to be done." John pats Alex on the shoulder as he turns away, and it's so hard that Alex is forced to take a step back to stop himself from falling over.

"And Riley," Cena adds, callously tossing the words over his shoulder, "I really hope I'm wrong about all this."

"You _are_!"

Alex does everything in his power to convince himself that there isn't some kind of malicious one-man conspiracy being perpetrated against him, but by the time John is halfway down the hall it's a total fucking knockout. Alex's head is busting, the air is sucked from his lungs, his chest feels like it's caving in and he'd love nothing more than to blame it on his hunger pangs, but he knows that's not what's wrong with him.

He's having a certified panic attack.

It was only a couple months ago when Alex thought he was going to be taken away from Mike and now it's happening all over again. But this time it could be Mike's career that's on the line. Alex curses himself for ever leaving the sanctuary of Mike's warmth. He should have just stayed in bed where everything was perfect and he was safe.

Quietly, he enters the room and is relieved to see that Mike is still sleeping. He couldn't bear for the guy to see the emotion flooding his eyes. Not _now_, not _this_ morning. He places the trays of food he now resents on the table and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he passes by. To no surprise of his own, he looks as pale as he feels.

He strips down to nothing, trying to cool himself off and also wanting to shed the filth of the outside world - of his past mistakes - and recapture what he had less than an hour earlier. He lifts the thin sheet of fabric covering his naked boyfriend and slides into bed right behind him, their bodies melding together, fitting so perfectly. Alex wraps his arm around Mike and buries his face into the pillow just behind the man's head. Soon, Mike starts to stir and surely Alex's sniffling is the cause.

Mike pulls his arm out from under Alex's embrace. Brings the guy's hand up and kisses it gently. "You okay?"

Alex kisses Mike's shoulder. "I just want _you_," he says, slight panic laced throughout the tone of his voice.

Mike can feel Alex's heart pounding against his back, and the immense heat radiating off his lover's body is intense. "You have me," he whispers, his voice still adjusting to the new day. Alex kisses the nape of Mike's neck as he nuzzles into him and then sprinkles more affection across his shoulder.

Live in the now. Cena's reaching and just trying to cause trouble like he always does. Just stay with Mike. Be with Mike. This is where you belong. Alex repeats this mantra in his head until he and the man he's holding are whisked away to that other world they felt so safe in, a world where it's just the two of them and not a damn thing matters except this moment. No more thoughts about a false prediction of the future. No more worries or regrets.

Mike reaches behind him and grabs hold of his boyfriend, stroking him soothingly. Alex's soft kisses intensify, tasting the salt of Mike's skin as he grows stiff in his lover's hand. He feels Mike smear his precum over the tip of his erection but there's no way that'll be enough, especially with Mike still sore from the marathon they were entangled in the night before. He contorts his body and clumsily reaches for the bottle of lubricant sitting on the nightstand behind him, knocking his cell phone to the floor and he can hardly find it in him to care. There's only one thing he wants to think about.

He squeezes a few generous droplets of the silky liquid onto himself, shuddering slightly at the cool sensation but it only lasts for a second, Mike's hand moving in quickly. He coats Alex's dick and shifts his legs in such a way to give the man the room he needs and soon Alex finds himself being taken inside his boyfriend, being held so tight. Knowing that Mike's body must still be reeling, he takes his time.

A few seconds pass and Mike presses his hand into Alex's thigh as he arches back, nudging him to start moving. Holding Mike's hip taut, Alex slowly pulls out and then slowly pushes back in, easing his way deeper each time and all the while still enjoying the taste of Mike's flesh. Mike grabs Alex's thigh and gropes his ass, his whole body reacquainting with the sweet ache only Alex can provide.

He turns into the bed letting out a low groan, and then back towards Alex, tilting his head, wanting a kiss, needing to taste him, too. Alex slides his hand up to Mike's chest, fingers running over rigid nipples. He holds his partner, pulling him even closer, almost rolling the full weight of the guy's upper body onto his chest, the two twisting together like a pretzel. He brings his hand up to hold the side of Mike's face as their lips meet, his tongue invading an eager mouth.

"Touch me," Mike moans, his terse command being obeyed immediately. Alex pushes his knee forward forcing Mike to raise his leg up, propping his boyfriend's thigh on top of his own thigh, creating a space. He dips his hand down between Mike's thighs, presses his sweaty palm to the softest flesh, moving in a firm circular motion, causing the man to whimper.

Mike captures Alex's bottom lip with his teeth, tugs on it. "More," he begs, a swollen lip still trapped between his gritted teeth. Alex obediently wraps his strong hand around Mike's hard-on, feels the rest of his body tense up on contact. He enjoys the sensation of Mike throbbing in his fist and just before it becomes completely unbearable for his lover, he diligently begins pumping the full length of him, slowly at first and steadily increasing the pace in time with his own robust thrusts. If the moans absorbed by Alex's deep kisses are any indication, the extent of the attention he's lavishing on Mike's body is driving the man wild. Mike runs his fingers through soft hair and back down to that remarkable ass, pulling his boyfriend into him as he climaxes. His trembling body latches onto Alex, stealing the man's orgasm in a passionate heist.

The two lovers lie in the beautiful mess they made, Alex trying to be as motionless as possible for as long as possible until the mess _he's_ made comes rushing to the forefront of his thoughts again.


	20. Over the Limit, Almost

20. Over the Limit…Almost

Alex unbuttons Mike's shirt. He's delicate in taking it off but Mike still flinches. He walks around to take a look at his boyfriend's back. It's all bruised and swollen with welts. "Fuckin' Cena," he says through clenched teeth, his voice breaking. "Such an asshole."

Mike exhales heavily, as if he's still out of breath from the match. "It was an _I Quit_ match, he was just doing his job, babe."

"I swear he took pleasure in it."

"Well, if you got to whip him with a belt, I bet you'd take pleasure in it, too."

"Damn right. And I guarantee he wouldn't be walking the next day either."

"Whoa!" Mike turns to face his boyfriend. "Where's this hostility coming from?"

Alex takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says, bowing his head to the floor. "I'm just…"

"Is this about Cena…or tomorrow night?"

Alex looks up to Mike with the saddest eyes, every part of his question hurts to think about. "Let me get you somethin' for your back," he offers, walking past Mike, completely avoiding the loaded question altogether. "You want some aspirin or I could get you some ice or-"

"The trainer gave me some lotion that's supposed to help but I might as well take some aspirin, too." Mike turns towards Alex and watches him rummage through his bag and he can't help but notice how frantic he seems. He knows the news they got after the match must be eating away at him but he thought they learned their lesson about communication on Valentine's Day. "Check the front pocket. I think I put it in there."

Mike kicks off his shoes and takes off his pants and when he's done taking the medicine, he walks over to the bed, perches himself on the edge. "We made a good team tonight, didn't we?"

Alex approaches Mike with the cream, shakes it violently without even realizing it, but Mike is very perceptive when it comes to Alex's body language.

"Oh babe, why don't you change out of those clothes first."

"I'm fine."

Mike gets up and covers Alex's hand with his own, to calm him, to stop him from nervously shaking the bottle. "Alex," he whispers softly.

Alex catches his breath, suddenly aware of how detached he's been acting. That's not how he wants to be. Mike leans in and wraps his arms around his boyfriend but Alex doesn't hug him back. He wants to but he can't wrap his arms around the guy without causing him additional discomfort and the last thing he'd ever want to do is be the cause of Mike's pain.

Mike feels Alex's chin quiver against his shoulder. "It's okay. They're just going in a different direction than we thought. But this'll be good for you. You'll be able to create a name for yourself and get out from under my shadow."

"No," Alex whispers painfully. "I don't care about that. I just wanna stay with _you_."

Mike pulls away, cups Alex's cheek in the palm of his hand and looks into watery eyes. "This doesn't change anything, you know. We're gonna be fine."

Alex presses his lips to the inside of Mike's wrist, his body fighting the overwhelming urge to cry.

Mike pulls Alex's shirt over his head and unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans, and Alex wishes the gestures were for a very different reason. But this is his reality.

He toes off his shoes and steps out of his jeans and walks to the bed with Mike. Mike sits on the edge again, slouching over and Alex climbs behind him. Positions himself so his boyfriend's between his legs, scoots in close. As he rubs the lotion in the palms of his hands, he leans in and kisses Mike's shoulder, the man rubbing his leg in response. Shortly after that, Alex's soothing touch is on Mike's back. He feels the guy's whole body collapse with relief under him. "How's that feel?"

"Really good," Mike breathes.

"Good."

Alex runs his coated palms over Mike's warm, reddened skin, feels the raised areas where Cena used the most force and he can't help but be reminded of all the damage _he's_ caused. It'll never be seen in shades of black and blue, it'll never be calmed with a healing balm, but he can feel it. He can feel it and it's as real as if he were the one beaten with a leather strap. And worse.

The dots seem to be connecting just as Cena predicted and Alex isn't liking the picture that's forming. Once he got past the initial fear he felt, he convinced himself that he had given too much credit to the man's antagonistic warning. And after that particular denial ran its course, he passed off everything that followed as coincidence, one after another after another.

He and Mike had been prepared - anxious even - for Mike to lose the title, but they had never anticipated the way in which it would happen. And for a while, Alex actually believed that not being able to support Mike at ringside during the triple threat cage match was just a fluke. It didn't make sense for the creative team to write his character so, well, out of character, but he went with the flow, dismissing its ominous foretelling.

Then, on Raw the following night, the script called for Mike (as _Miz_, of course) to blame Alex for not only being the reason he lost his title at the pay-per-view, but also the reason he lost his rematch. This caused another reason for concern, but still, Alex convinced himself there was nothing to worry about. Never mind the fact that he had never been written to be incompetent or selfish before, not in this kind of way, not when it came to his on-screen relationship with Mike. Nevertheless, Alex chose to remain optimistic. Chalked all these occurrences up to being part of a story arc in which their characters were going through a rough patch - an experience that would make them stronger in the end; something that would unify them and solidify their partnership. A path that would lead them towards becoming a tag team.

But as the weeks went on and Alex was continually written to be the screw-up, costing Miz match after match, he could no longer refute Cena's warning. Much to Alex's chagrin, the meddling superstar started to make sense again - in a legitimately scary way. That's when he became paranoid and believed that maybe the upper echelons of the company, namely Vince McMahon, really _was_ out for blood. _His blood_.

Reflecting on the events of the past month leads Alex further back in time on his quest for a reasonable explanation. As he continues tending to Mike's sore back, he thinks about what happened back in February. It's something he's tried to forget about, but now it seems as relevant as ever.

The week before he was supposed to be _fired_, Raw's _anonymous general manager_ addressed one of his emails to Miz. It was announced that an impromptu tag team match would take place, with the titles on the line. Naturally, Alex thought _he'd_ be teamed up with his mentor. It only made sense. So, when it was revealed that Cena would actually be Miz's partner, Alex was floored. Adding insult to injury, they ended up winning and _claiming_ the championships. No matter the length of their title reign, no matter how short it was, the damage had been done. Alex thinks back to the comment Cena made in the hotel hallway - how his hopes of forming a bona fide tag team with Mike will never see the light of day.

With that in mind, Alex finds it ironic that earlier in the night at the latest pay-per-view, he got to team up with Mike – before Cena beat him with a belt. It wasn't in an official tag team capacity, but they did work together as a cohesive unit during the main event. Yet, once again, Miz racked up another loss Alex is sure creative will have him take the heat for. Suffice it to say, it's almost a certainty in his mind that this will be the reason used to explain why The Miz and his apprentice will decide to go their separate ways come tomorrow night on Raw.

The wheels in Alex's head are spinning and the faster they turn, the slower he becomes with the application of cream.

Never actually fired. Never sent down to Florida for repackaging, but there was a two-week exit under the guise of being fired. What else? The week before his departure, he was forced to witness Mike win the tag team titles with Cena and according to Cena, Vince doesn't want The Miz and his apprentice to be a team, so why would creative have the pair fight together against Cena in Mike's latest match? Was it McMahon's call? Was it a joke? Was he just mocking him? Giving him a taste of something he can never truly have, only to turn around the following night and take it away? It's all one big convoluted mess that makes no sense to Alex. He starts to doubt if it even _is_ supposed to make sense, but then something hits him that he had forgotten about. It's a detail so small, yet holds the greatest of import.

He remembers how he'd been drafted to Smackdown the week before Mike lost his title. It was unexpected because technically, he shouldn't have ever been included in the yearly draft - as per his storyline, he was hired by _The Miz_, not by the company. But now he wonders if what's currently happening is deliberately mirroring what happened back in February, with Vince demonstrating just how serious he is in exercising his authority.

He considers the possibility that being drafted to Smackdown - a plot point that only lasted one week and was completely dropped never to be mentioned again - may have served two purposes: From the audience's perspective, it was used to explain why Alex wasn't at ringside when The Miz lost the title. It still didn't make complete sense, but it did the trick. Perhaps it was a cover for a more significant reason, a more sinister one. One meant only for him. A harbinger of things to come. A window providing a bleak look into the pair's future – the termination of their on-screen partnership.

With the likelihood of that being the case growing stronger by the second, Alex finds himself faced with a harsh truth he wishes he could ignore, but he can't. Not anymore. Going separate ways tomorrow night is not about a _push_. It's about creating the illusion of a push so that everyone, including his own boyfriend, will think parting ways is for the best and that his career will blossom in doing so. But there was never any intention of going that route.

Severing ties with Miz has nothing to do with building Alex Riley up, but everything to do with tearing him down. It's the punishment he's evaded for so long finally come to bite him in the ass a millionfold. And that means the direction comes straight from the top. Orders from Vince McMahon himself. Just as Cena warned; just as he had started to fear over the last few weeks. Alex realizes the house of cards he's stacked in his favor can no longer stand under the weight, the foundation was faulty from the start, and of course Vince didn't tell him weeks in advance like he did back in February. Of course the malevolent man covered his bases this time around, that way Mike would have no reason to oppose the direction of the storyline, and now he has no time to affect the outcome, even if he wanted to. They haven't even received their script yet, so how can he argue with something that doesn't exist?

Alex feels completely lost, like he's stranded in the middle of nowhere. It's a series of wrong turns that went unnoticed until now and he regrets every single one of them. More and more, he also regrets never having told Mike about his conversation with Cena and maybe he ought to. "Babe?"

"Hmm?"

Alex opens his mouth to speak. To confess, to confide, to seek guidance, or in his most helpless desperation, to beg Mike to get him out of this mess just like he always does. But that's the problem. Mike would fight for him, just like he always has. Just like he always does. He'd climb to the highest peak of this slippery slope and Alex knows all too well what's capable of happening from up there. No, the man still has so much to offer, he doesn't deserve to lose it all when he's given so much of himself, _of his life_, to get to where he is.

There's only one thing for Alex to do at this point: take the hit. Accept the punishment he should have received six months ago. After all, he's sure Mike is right. This won't change anything about their personal relationship. He knows it'll be challenging - he'll be taken out of the spotlight and because of it, spend less time with Mike - but they'll still be together and that's all Alex really needs. He just needs to be with Mike.

"Were you gonna say something?"

"All done," Alex says, shifting his body back further into the bed.

Mike crawls onto the bed and lies down on his stomach, his hand curling up under his chin. His eyes are closed and Alex can tell how exhausted his boyfriend is. He lies down beside him, each a reflection of the other. Loses track of time as he stares at Mike and he doesn't care. He just wants to look at him, admire how beautiful he is. A few times he thinks about what they could be doing if Cena hadn't been so harsh with the belt. In the back of his mind he resents Vince for taking yet another thing away from him because he knows that's where Cena's instruction came from, but really, if he's completely honest with himself, he's just grateful to be with Mike under any circumstance.

Alex leans in and kisses Mike's shoulder. Seeing his boyfriend smile, even in the sleepy state he's in, makes it easier for him to push all the negativity out of his mind and close his eyes.


	21. The Push

21. The Push

Mike screams at Alex in front of a live audience as numerous cameras focus on the disintegration of their on-screen relationship, broadcasting it to every corner of the globe. "This is all your fault!"

Intellectually, Alex knows this is just part of the script, but hearing these words and seeing the pain in Mike's eyes doesn't make it hurt any less, especially when knowing what he knows. _This _is_ all my fault_. He stands there absorbing the verbal abuse spilling off his boyfriend's tongue - the line separating fiction from reality becoming too blurred to make rational distinction. _I never should have gone to that club that night. I never should have gotten behind that wheel._

In only a month's time, the creative team have managed to twist Mike and Alex's storyline into a complete mess. Now, when _Miz_ lashes out at his bumbling corner man, Vince can step in and manipulate Mike into saying things that are true about his own story with Alex and not a damn person will question it, _he_ doesn't even question it.

Alex grimaces when he hears the ringing echo of those five words Mike's just bellowed: This is all your fault!

"Without me you wouldn't even be in the WWE!"

_I know_. Alex flinches. The insults continue to come at him like an organized assault; so fast and loud, he starts to get dizzy.

"You are _nothing_ without _me_!"…"I have given you chance after chance and you have been one big disappointment after disappointment!"…"I am sick of your mind-numbing stupidity!"

Alex wants to disappear. He knows exactly what Mike will say next and what he'll have to do. He wishes the anonymous general manager would chime in with an email and make this all go away, but his wishes are forever in vain. No one's coming to help him. If he could, he'd go against the script and make Miz forgive him right there on the spot; he wouldn't do what he's been instructed, but he can't because if he did, he'd just make everything worse than it already is, and right now it's bad. It's really fucking bad.

He stares into Mike's watery eyes - the man's dedication is all too impressive, very much like the night before when he had to pretend like he won the championship back from Cena. There was a moment during the match where Mike was declared the winner, it was only for a minute before it was revoked, but the way Mike wrapped his arms around him was reminiscent of how he felt when Mike won the first time around, and it felt just as real.

Just as real as _this_ moment.

They're just three words, harmless on their own, but when strung together, they're as gut wrenching as they are absolute. _"You are fired!"_

Alex blacks out. His propensity for losing time - most likely a result from all the concussions he suffered while playing football in college - decides this is just as good a time as any to take effect.

Though he already knew what he was going to have to do, and _how_ he was going to have to do it to ensure he'd sell the story, Alex doesn't remember punching his boyfriend. He doesn't remember ripping the clothes off Mike's back or screaming in his face or throwing him across the announce table. He doesn't remember busting the guy's lip open or even that the crowd started to chant his name for the first time in his young career. But as he's walking back behind the curtain, he sure as hell feels his stomach churning and the base of his throat burning. He runs to the bathroom as fast as he can and throws up.

**xxxx**

Alex stumbles into the private dressing room he shares with Mike and he knows this will be the last time he'll be able to do so. After tonight, technically, starting fifteen minutes ago, The Miz and Alex Riley are bitter rivals. With the company's inclination to maintain on-screen storylines _off screen_, there will never be a reason for the two to hang out publicly ever again. And hanging out in Mike's locker room, just the two of them without a reason? It just can't happen without drawing suspicion from the other superstars.

"There you are," Mike says, turning to Alex. He immediately notices just how flushed his boyfriend is. He rushes to him and holds his clammy face in the palms of his hands, feels him shivering as if he's cold. "Oh baby, it's okay. They loved you. You were so great."

Alex is emotionally exhausted. He wants to enjoy the moment, be happy for putting on a good show, but for the first time in his wrestling career, he doesn't care about the show. He only cares about Mike. He looks up to his boyfriend, needing to look into those comforting eyes, but he doesn't make it that far. Blood catches his attention.

"Oh shit, did I do this?" Alex asks as he reaches out and tilts Mike's head back so he can get a better look at his split lip in the light. Grows even more disappointed with himself.

Mike winces. "It's just a cut. It'll be healed by morning. It's okay."

"No. Don't say that. Hurting you is never okay."

**xxxx**

Alex finds himself at the crossroads of his entire life. He knows _he's_ the reason everything is crumbling around him. Lying to Mike is physically painful. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather lose a leg than lie to his boyfriend, but this time his choices seem rather bleak. Over the past three weeks, he's witnessed Cena's warning come to fruition and tonight, the message couldn't have been any clearer. There was no way for him to have known that his story with Mike would end the way it did, in such a hostile manner. But that word: fired. It was a big red flag, a signifier of sorts, and he knew the exact message Vince meant to send his way. Cena was right. The man means business. Alex thought he had made the mature choice last night, but now he realizes he was looking at the wrong options. He knows it's time for him to choose a path based on the actual ones.

With all that's happened, he still doesn't feel like he can tell Mike what's really going on because if he does, his boyfriend will surely talk to Vince again and Alex knows that will only make matters worse. So, now, two extremes present themselves. He could opt to say nothing and watch Mike fall rung by rung down the company ladder, being punished for something that was never his fault. Or (and this kills Alex to even consider) he could end things with Mike, and the guy's life will once again be his own. He won't have to worry about the follies of a worthless apprentice or the mishaps of a misguided boyfriend. Mike would no longer feel compelled to choose him over championship titles and create excuses in the name of _love_ which only ever serves to hold him back from furthering his career. He'd finally get back on track, situated on a path towards true greatness.

Alex thinks about his options during the ride back to the hotel. Several times he feels like crying, but if Mike sees him fall apart, he won't be able to do what he knows needs to be done.

**xxxx**

Finally alone in the privacy of their hotel room, Mike walks up behind Alex and runs his fingers down the man's back. "Do you wanna order in?" His hands settle on either side of Alex's waist. "Or do you want to skip straight to dessert?" His voice low and his breath hot on Alex's ear. Tops off the suggestion by pulling his boyfriend's backside into his hips, which he moves in such a way. "I gotta admit, that fight got me pretty hot," he adds, tugging gently on the rim of Alex's ear with his teeth.

Alex starts to go numb. Most definitely a sign of depression, but he's too focused on what he has to do to realize that taking a breather would be in his best interest. "Remember a while back when I thought I was screwing everything up for you…and you said I was distracting you by saying your name?"

Mike chuckles, his forehead falling heavy to Alex's shoulder. "Alex, about that-"

"I'm screwing everything up," Alex interrupts, his delivery robotic, flat.

"No you're not," Mike groans, nuzzling the back of Alex's head as he pulls the guy's shirt up slightly. Snakes his hands around to his belly, feels the ripples of his hard abs and the definition of his chest as he pulls him even closer. "You make everything work."

"Do you even know what happened out there tonight?" Alex turns to face Mike, momentarily breaking the guy's hold on him.

Mike leans in. "You kicked my ass," he whispers seductively against his boyfriend's neck before sucking on it.

Alex grabs Mike by his upper arms and pries him off. "You fired me."

Mike giggles, still oblivious to the serious tone married to Alex's words. "_The Miz_ fired his assistant. It's not like I broke up with _you_."

"How is this supposed to work anymore?"

"What?" The question comes out as if Mike didn't hear what Alex said, though he did.

"This. You and me. It was never supposed to happen in the first place, but we gave it a shot since we were always together anyway and no one would notice, but now..._You fired me!_"

Mike is legitimately confused. "What are you saying?"

"I don't see how this can work anymore."

"This is a joke."

"I'm not joking."

Mike takes a deep breath, doesn't want to overreact. Certainly doesn't want the argument to deteriorate into anything remotely resembling the outcome of their on-screen falling out. "Alright. Let's just dial this back a few notches. Tonight was too intense. I mean, you do know there wasn't any truth to those things I said out there, right?"

"It doesn't matter if you meant them or not-"

"What the fuck is that? Of course I didn't mean them! They were words in a fucking script-"

"I can't do this anymore."

"So that's it? Three weeks? You're telling me all we get is three _fucking_ weeks?!" Mike shoves Alex and his outburst shocks even himself because if he's allowing himself to get angry then that means he believes it's real. He starts hyperventilating, can't seem to get enough air, almost chokes on his words. "This isn't you. You would never do this. Not after…" Mike takes a step forward and tries to touch Alex in a less aggressive manner, but Alex swats his hand away. Mike vocalizes his frustration in the form of a growling whimper, his fists clenched tight. "You don't get to do this to me! To us! You're not allowed to take it all away, everything we've built. We waited so long to be _here_. Why are you doing this?"

Alex clamps down on the inside of his bottom lip, unsure if he can actually go through with his plan.

Mike watches his boyfriend, the man he loves so much, act wildly out of character. He's often told Alex how he feels, but there's always been somewhat of a filter; never wanted to bare his complete soul; but he's terrified of what will happen if Alex walks out the door and he didn't do everything in his power to save what they have.

A deep breath; steady in, steady out. Mike tries to stay calm, in control of his emotions. Reminds himself that nothing is set in stone and he has a better chance of turning the night around if he stays rational. No insults, no violent outbursts; just an even keel, honest dialogue. "You once asked me what this energy between us is. Do you remember that?"

Alex reluctantly nods his head. "Thanksgiving." This is much more difficult than he expected, and he already knew it was going to be hardest thing he's ever done.

"And I told you I didn't know. But I do." The admission causes Mike's voice to crack. He clears his throat and braces himself for what he's about to say because he's never had to say anything so powerful in his whole life. "I think it's our souls. They're singing to each other…crying out to be one."

If Alex were to look up at Mike he probably wouldn't notice the way the guy's body is shaking, but it is. Admitting such a truth is a shock to the system, and this is the shock Mike is currently experiencing surge through his.

Alex brings his dominant hand to his face - even _he's_ shaking - and he presses his thumb and index finger to the inside corners of his eyes as hard as he can until he sees bright flickers of light. A few determined tears prove much stronger than his efforts and they surely don't go unnoticed by Mike.

"Y'know, all my life I've sought out the very best this world has to offer. I've been fortunate enough to travel the globe in search of it, and for a good while there, I thought I made it. I thought, it doesn't get much better than this. But then you found me and the sky opened up and it was no longer about what the world had to offer, it became about what the _universe_ had to offer and I realized then that I'd just been settling for mediocre the whole time, my whole life. I had no idea there was anything out there that was so amazing, so special, so…_mine_."

Alex shakes his head, eyes still closed as Mike continues.

"And the only reason I was able to wait as long as I did, to be with you, to really _be_ with you," Mike stresses, "is because I knew you'd be worth it. And oh my God, were you worth it," he breathes. "To find words…" Mike stops, takes a few deep breaths, thinks back to all the time they spent together, all the secrets they shared and the promises they made - whether they were verbalized or not - and to see Alex standing in front of him, frozen, cowering inside of himself, covering his eyes, refusing to face him, is a sight he shouldn't know. Mike takes half a step forward, cautious not to startle him.

"Being with you…" Mike's voice grows faint for two reasons. One, because he's about to say something he never thought he'd _have_ to say, not with words. For a guy who very rarely gets embarrassed, he's embarrassed. And two, it's a way to draw Alex in and force the man to really listen. "Making love with you," he says in a small voice, "is so much more than I ever thought I deserved. Before you, fucking meant nothing. It was basically a step up from using my own hand, that's how intimate it was. It felt good, sure, but there was always something missing and I was too stupid, too blind to even realize that until you showed me how much more there really is. It's about being as close to you as I can get, and not just on a physical level. I give you my whole body as a way of showing you how I've given you my heart…and my soul. And it's about making you feel the way you make me feel, but somehow you can manage to do that with a simple look when I think no one notices me, with that silly smile of yours, with a laugh even when I know my jokes are lame. Which, let's face it, they're lame most of the time. You listen to me when I need to vent and even when I'm going on about absolutely nothing. It's when you know I need you without having to tell you that I do."

Mike dares to reach out and place his hand on Alex's shoulder. He needs him _now_ and he can't understand why he's not here.

"Alex, I know why you do those things, that's why none of what you're doing _right now_ makes any sense. I need you to talk to me, tell me what happened so we can fix it. Together, like we always do, because the things you've showed me can never be unseen. You can't give me the best I've ever had, the best thing I will _ever_ have, and expect me to go back to mediocre. Because mediocre is shit, Alex. It's fucking shit."

"Stop it," Alex whispers through disloyal tears. "I can't do this with you anymore," he says, sounding like a broken record as he turns to leave.

"Alex, don't go!" Mike calls out, stunned that the man's still walking away after stripping his soul bare.

"Alex!" he tries again with more authority, but to no avail.

"_Kevin!_" Mike cries out in complete desperation, his tired voice trembling almost as much as his knees.

Alex stops against his better judgment, or maybe it's his better judgment that stops him. The last time Mike used his real name seems so long ago now, seems like such a simpler time. And God knows he never thought he'd hear Mike say it with such anguish; the scarring sound of it forever branded in his memory.

"It hurts the way I love you," Mike sobs, clutching his nervous stomach. "It feels like I'm drowning and falling and burning all at once." Mike wants to punch himself for being so emotional, but he can't hide how he feels. It's his curse and his only hope. The floodgates of his innermost truths have been breached - irreparably. His only fear now is that he'll run out of words and all of it still won't be enough to make Alex stay. "Only you can be my air and break my fall. You're the spark that started this fire. I'm nothing without you."

It would be easy for Alex to turn around and hold Mike in his arms. It would be easy to tell him that he feels the exact same way. It would be easy to tell him the _truth_. But it would be devastating to watch the person he loves more than everything he's ever known, lose everything he's worked so hard for, just to be with _him_. In Alex's mind, sacrificing his own happiness is the ultimate expression of his absolute love for the man, even if his reasons for doing so will never be known. And this is the misguided mantra he keeps repeating to himself as he reaches out for the cold steel of the doorknob.

"Then she was right!" Mike barks antagonistically, hurling the indictment across the room like a thousand daggers, straight into Alex's back.

Alex cocks his head to the side, Mike's change in tactic proving effective and the man doesn't even have to specify the _she_ he's referring to, Alex making the connection right away.

"And you _were_ just using me until you got a push! Well, good for you! Your hard work finally paid off, didn't it? I guess you don't need me anymore."

Alex hates that Mike's had to resort to bringing up his ex. He hates the possibility that he may actually believe the fallacious garbage he's regurgitating, and that this could be how the guy remembers him. His heart is beating so hard he swears it's about to explode, but this doesn't stop him from turning around and rushing towards Mike, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in, their eyes locked. That energy flowing between them grows more intense than it's ever been and Alex has no choice but to succumb to the confused, heart-broken eyes that lie before him. He's entranced for a moment, seeing _everything_ standing before him. Everything they've experienced, everything they were supposed to do, everything he wants and everything he'll ever need.

The smallest flicker of warning shoots through him. It tells him this is wrong and he shouldn't lead Mike on, but somehow the signal from his brain to his feet - the one that tells him to back away - gets jumbled and rerouted. Suddenly, he pulls Mike into a hard, passionate kiss, their lips only ever breaking away so Alex can pull Mike's shirt over his head. Mike undresses Alex with the same urgency. He unbuckles Alex's belt as the guy removes his own jacket and shirt. He had ripped his dress shirt open earlier on the show during their explosive fight, so conveniently, there's no need to hassle with the buttons now. Alex attacks Mike's belt as he's kicking his shoes to the side and when they're finally naked, Mike jumps up into Alex's arms, testing the man's physical strength, straddling his waist as they kiss, begging to be taken. He places his full trust in the man holding him. Even at this peak of heightened emotion, there's no one on the planet Mike trusts more.

Alex sandwiches his partner between himself and the nearest wall, hoisting the guy above him. Mike feels slippery teeth scrape the ridge of his collarbone and then sink into the vulnerable flesh of his neck. He moans melodically, the pleasure chords blending with pain. He grabs soft hair, tugging Alex's head back so he can look him in the eye. "The bed."

Without hesitation, Alex obeys. He carries Mike across the room, even while they're kissing fervently, and lowers him onto the last bed they'll ever share. He slicks his hand with excess saliva and reaches down between them; slathering himself, adjusting himself. He glances up at Mike with scorching desire, and it's the only warning the guy gets before he feels the full force of Alex inside of him.

Mike grunts loudly, his eyes rolling back in time with his arms. His hands attach to the headboard, pressing against it, bracing himself as the two collide again and again. He's never felt anything so abrasive, so raw, but he's sure to savor every sensation. Alex gives himself enough room to weave his arm in the space between their bodies and hook it around Mike's thigh, and when he lifts his leg away - the bend of his lover's knee settling in the crook of his elbow - it enhances the experience, increasing the amount of pleasure for both.

With each given thrust, Alex strikes the proverbial power chord that sends his partner into a freefall. Mike struggles to contain his cries, but a desperate few manage to escape into the room. He feels his aching erection trapped in the slippery friction of their bodies and he craves more pressure, but he craves Alex even more. Holding him as close as he can, they move in an intense complimentary motion. He breathes in the musky scent of his sweat mixing with Alex's and the smell of the man's deodorant trying to mask it. His whole body is hyperalert. His awareness of every touch, every taste, every jolt of pain and every gush of pleasure elapse as if a second were a minute. He's primed to remember everything.

Alex kisses Mike so deeply he'd literally forget to breathe if not for his partner holding his face so he could look into his eyes – that alone proving more intense than all the rest because their eyes have never had the ability to lie to each other.

Not much is said during the intimate exchange, any words would cheapen the experience, dilute it into something it's not and unfortunately, both men know exactly what's happening.

Mike feels like he's about to lose consciousness. As the time approaches, rather than throwing his head back and losing all control, he latches onto the meat of Alex's shoulder instead, teeth selfishly claiming their territory.

"F-fuck!" Alex stammers and Mike quickly covers the guy's mouth with his hand before his voice gets any louder.

He's going up. He's coming down. Which way is he falling? It doesn't matter. But impact is the only fate Mike knows and he's barreling towards it. Faster than the second before and faster still than the one preceding it. Alex's sore muscle sustains the distorted wails of ecstasy being extracted from deep within Mike and in this fraction of a second is where eternity lies.

The vibration of Mike's tongue on Alex's skin, the violent contractions of the guy's entire body around his own, and the sweet sound of Mike's song near his ear is the final push Alex needs. Trailing only seconds behind his lover, Alex finally falls victim to his own orgasm - with Mike's hand muffling the rapture of his release.

His body becomes dead weight, drained in every way by the impromptu encounter. He feels safe in Mike's arms, so much so that he's able to forget that these last few moments are the only remnants of a once vibrant and hopeful world he was lucky enough to inhabit for as long as he did.

Mike holds Alex tight, frightened that if he moves, Alex will then move, so he's still aside from his heavy panting. Takes the time to marinate on all that just happened. On all the words spoken and unspoken. Nothing makes sense to him, but he's never been a stupid man. He's compelled to vocalize his fears in spite of himself. "This doesn't change anything, does it?" And when he doesn't receive an answer, he receives his answer.

He kisses Alex's head despite not knowing why any of this is happening. Even after everything the guy has put him through tonight, he still loves him the same. And as dysfunctional as it may be, he's thankful to have one last chance to hold the best part of his life in his arms.

Alex ignores the fact that he'll be leaving after Mike falls asleep and focuses on a drumming heartbeat instead. He cherishes Mike's touch, the way his soothing fingers run through his sweat-drenched hair, across his tender shoulder and down his back over and over again. Wonders why the guy would put up with this kind of treatment and then he squeezes Mike tight when he realizes he would do the exact same thing if their roles were reversed.

In time, Mike's breathing evens out, his metronome heartbeat slow and steady. His hand, powerless, falls from Alex's shoulder to the bed. Alex knows Mike is asleep. He had hoped the guy would have lasted a bit longer, pushing back the inevitable, but he really put him through the emotional ringer. It's better that he's resting now.

Alex stays as long as he can, whispering apologies Mike will never hear against the man's chest. He looks up to Mike. Studies him for a long moment, to memorize his features, to take a mental picture in hopes that this time, it'll last a lifetime. As he stares, he's taken aback by how content Mike seems. But the fresh speck of blood on his upper lip (the cut he caused earlier in the night most certainly agitated by their aggressive kissing), reveals a much different story and this saddens him.

Only a few more seconds left and he spends it telling Mike how much he loves him and how much he's going to miss him, whispering the words against his swollen lips and sealing them with a quivering kiss.

Being extra careful not to wake Mike, Alex gets out of bed and covers up the guy's exposed body. He gets dressed and collects his belongings, then heads for the door knowing this time no one will be able to stop him unless he stops himself. And he does stop, but it's only to take one last look at Mike. The strength that keeps him moving, a strength that Alex would rather remain dormant, takes over and he walks out of the darkened room, leaving his heart and everything he values behind.


	22. Aftermath

PART II

22. Aftermath

It's set to be an easy night as far as Mondays go. Mike doesn't have a match, he doesn't even have to get out there and cut a promo delivering one of his egotistically-driven speeches. On paper it's easy, a no-brainer. Experienced wrestlers, especially two who play off each other as well as Mike and Alex do, don't even have to discuss a game plan beforehand. The email Mike received was self-explanatory enough:

While Alex is confronting one of the commentators, Mike's to run out to the ring and attack the guy from behind. Then, when Alex gets the upper hand, the former champ's to run away.

It's not an unusual scene given the circumstances. It's customary. Or more like overplayed.

Mike heads to the staging area a bit earlier than he needs to. Figures it would be better to get there before Alex in hopes of creating a less awkward situation for himself, but as he approaches, he realizes that the guy's already beat him to the punch. Instantly, Mike seizes up and hides behind the nearest corner. The sight of the man triggers a bundle of emotions that surge through his system - relief, happiness, fear, sadness and a hundred more he'd be hard pressed to identify by name. The weight of the air compounds like that of salty ocean water. It conspires against him with the force of gravity. His body feels heavy, has to brace himself against the concrete wall. His head falls back, his eyes drift shut. The night Alex left him comes rushing back, as it does countless times a day, every day, every night.

He opens his eyes. The hotel room is blanketed in darkness, the loud echo of what he can only imagine was the door clicking into place reverberates in his memory. He feels the spot beside him in hopes that Alex will be there and it was all just a bad dream, but under his hand lies the cold sheet of abandonment - not even Alex's warmth had the decency to linger. He cries until he's physically ill and when he gets back into bed, he cries until he's depleted of energy. The heaviness of his eyelids is the only reason he closes his dry eyes at all.

Though it goes against his very nature, Mike wished he could have stayed in bed for just one day. To sulk, to get used to the idea of not being with Alex, to figure out a way to get him back, but he was robbed of such a luxury. The last thing he wanted to do was to relive the night before, but as timing would have it, he was scheduled to give several exclusive interviews for the company's magazine and website and if that wasn't bad enough, the woman he was meeting with gave him insight into Alex's responses. _A treat_, she called it. As if finding out the person you love most in the world thinks you're annoying could ever be considered a treat.

Ironically enough, Mike's only reprieve came from the fact that he and Alex are feuding on the show. It's a story that can only be told on Monday nights and it wouldn't make sense for him to be in other matches just yet, not even at house shows. So, with that, the exhausted man was able to go home. What good that did him. His empty condo providing no comfort, just the reminder of how alone he really was.

He peeks around the corner. Alex's back is still facing him. He's right there. So close. It's hard to believe they've been on opposite coasts for a whole week. Mike's given the guy space, forced himself not to reach out. For the life of himself, he can't remember why he would ever come to that decision. He looks up to a clock mounted on the wall. It wasn't part of any plan, but since there's still plenty of time, it couldn't hurt, could it? He walks up behind Alex. No longer able to keep himself from reaching out, Mike discreetly grabs the man's hand.

Startled, Alex instinctively pulls away. Scowls before realizing who it is and then once he does, he scowls because he has to.

"Come with me," Mike whispers.

"No. I'm goin' out there in a few."

"You want me to make a scene right here? 'Cause I'll do it."

Alex tilts his head, unthreatened. "No, you wouldn't."

No. He wouldn't. Mike huffs, his expression fraught with sadness and frustration.

"Fine," Alex concedes. "Five minutes." Refusing Mike is like traveling to a foreign country. He can't up and leave without booking a flight, packing his bags; he doesn't even know the language. Clearly he didn't prepare himself for the moment.

Mike leads Alex to a secluded corner where they're tucked away, hidden from prying eyes. They stand there, each waiting for the other to speak. Mike looks around to the familiarity of the tight space. The dim lighting, the stacks of empty equipment trunks surrounding them and then to Alex. Every component of a spontaneous rendezvous accounted for. "Just two weeks ago we were comin' back here to-"

"Mike."

The reminiscing man heeds the warning, but it's not enough to shut him down entirely. He reaches out to Alex's chest, which causes the man to step away, his back meeting the wall and there's nowhere else left for him to go. There's a slight sigh that doesn't escape Mike's detection. A tremble in the man's breath. He's heard that kind of tremble before. He runs his fingers down each side of Alex's lapel and looks into his eyes. "You look incredible."

Alex looks away, a swift turn of his head. He squirms under Mike's touch. His body language would suggest that he's uncomfortable, but that's the furthest thing from the truth. He's so comfortable with Mike that he has to physically restrain himself from giving in to the kind of simplistic touch that could easily cause him to crumble where he stands.

"I missed you." Mike pauses in case Alex wants to echo the sentiment, but he doesn't. "I was hoping you were gonna call."

Alex swallows thickly. "I didn't see the need." He looks up to the ceiling, still fidgeting in Mike's presence. Perhaps up? No. That would require some sort of comic book superpower. "The email we got seemed pretty straight forward."

"I'm not talking about tonight."

Alex purses his lips. Knows he's unable to maintain the already flimsy ruse for much longer. Not to mention, he has to get back to the curtain. Needing to leave, he connects with Mike, his hands clamping around the guy's wrists as his eyes lock onto glistening blues. "Are we done here?" He tears Mike away from his suit jacket and tries to leave, but his path is promptly blocked.

"Hardly," Mike answers, consciously controlling the level of his voice so as not to be heard by anyone on the other side of their ensconcement. "I know you missed me too. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me you miss me. Tell me you made a mistake and we'll forget about this whole stupid thing."

Alex shakes his head.

Mike yanks his wrists from Alex's grasp. Shoves his shoulders. "Then prove me wrong and tell me this wasn't the most miserable week of your life. That you haven't been in hell. Tell me I'm delusional and that being here with me right now isn't making you reconsider everything." Mike stares at Alex with a fiery intensity, piercing his soul. In the stubborn man's eyes lies a certain emotion he's seen before, an emotion Alex has only ever verbalized to him in their most private and intimate moments. "You can't, can you?"

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

Mike takes a small step back and loosens his tie, his jugular throbbing painfully. Unbuttons the collar of his neon pink dress shirt, certain his face must be the same shade by now. "You still playing this game?"

"It's not a game. I meant what I said last week. I can't do this anymore."

"And conveniently enough, you never gave me a reason. Y'know, I've been wracking my brain all week trying to figure out why the sudden one-eighty and all I could think of is that it must've been her. Did Maryse get to you? What'd she say? Was it Morrison?"

"No. This has got nothin' to do with them. This is about you and me."

"And by that, you must mean _me_."

Alex looks at Mike defiantly and shrugs.

"How can you stand here and act like the last year never happened? You act like we're strangers, like you don't even _like_ me. You can just toss me aside like you've outgrown a phase? Was being with me just a phase for you? Because I sure as hell didn't think it was. I know _I_ can't just wake up and be over _you_. I can't outgrow you. Not in a day, not in a week. Not ever. And I thought that was clear by the way I've given everything to you. Everything I've done since the moment I met you has been for you and only you."

Alex scoffs.

"What? You think I'm lying?"

On the contrary. Must compensate for the slip up. "Everything you do is for you. You've only ever thought about yourself. You never cared about me."

Mike grabs Alex by the shoulder, pulls him closer as he presses his other hand to the center of his chest. "You _are_ me! And even now, after everything you put me through this past week, I'm about to go out there and make a complete fool out of myself in front of millions of people for you-"

"Because it's your job and you have to."

"No, _for you_ because I want to help put you over. I'm not doing this out of reluctance or obligation. I'm not doing this because Vince promised me a shiny new title. I'm doing it willingly because, at the very least, I believe in you and you know my reasons run so much deeper than that. Everything I say and do out there is for you, so the audience will be on your side, and I'm not asking for anything in return but I'll tell ya what, it sure would be nice knowing that I can go to you afterwards and hold you and know that you don't really hate me because with the way we're going about it now, it sure seems like you do."

Alex huffs. The irony of Mike's words almost make him want to burst into hysterics – laughing, crying, he doesn't know which release his body is pining for more. Regardless, he can't afford to show either emotion at this juncture. "Have you always been this annoying?"

"Don't you dare do that! Don't you dare fucking feed me lines from some bullshit interview and act like you mean them!"

"Who's to say I don't?"

Mike contorts his mouth. "That's cute," he says with a knowing nod, though his face quickly falls, hardens. "Look at you. A fucking walking talking contradiction." Mike pulls out Alex's tie. Flings it in his face with patronizing disdain. "What the fuck is _this_? I guess NXT was my fault after all because if I was any kind of decent mentor you would know how important it is to sell your roll." Mike loosens the knot in Alex's tie aggressively. Tugs on his neck unapologetically. "A rule of thumb, if you're gonna lie, you best learn how to commit to it because there's no way I'd ever buy the shit you're selling." Mike rips the long stretch of fabric from under Alex's collar with so much force that he can hear the sound the friction makes. Wouldn't be surprised if it burned Alex's neck through his shirt. "_I don't need a suit to look like a star_?" He shouts the manufactured quote through gritted teeth, his tone - incredulous. Demonstrates his anger by throwing the tie to the ground.

"Stop it, Mike!"

Enraged with resentment, Mike claws at the buttons on Alex's dress shirt. "_Miz always made me wear suits_?! _We'd have huge blowouts backstage_?!"

The two engage in a violent struggle that only ends because Mike falls to his knees. He wraps his arms around Alex's waist, clutching the man desperately. "I can't sleep. I can't eat…I can't _breathe_. Tell me what happened. Tell me what I did. I'll do anything to make this right again."

Alex can feel Mike's chin quivering against his stomach, his own chin responding in kind. It takes him a couple long seconds to get his emotions in check. Can't talk until he's sure his voice won't crack. He grabs Mike by his arms and tries to yank him up, but Mike goes limp. "This is pathetic, even for you. Man the fuck up." He shuts his eyes tight, cringing at what he just said. Hurts to utter the words as much as he imagines Mike must feel hearing them. "If you care about me as much as you say you do, then let me out of here. I'm not gonna make it out there in time."

Mike hesitates, if only to hold Alex a little longer, but he has no other choice than to honor the request. He stands up, straightens his suit.

Alex snatches his tie from the filthy floor and shoves it into his pocket. He looks at Mike, his demeanor frosting over. "I hope this was a nice warm up for you." He goes to leave, but Mike grabs his hand and pulls him back so they're now standing beside each other facing in opposite directions.

"You and I both know you didn't want to leave me." Mike pulls Alex closer so his breath is near his ear. "You don't break up with someone without giving a reason and then jump into bed with them two seconds later. The way you were with me, the way you touched me, the way you kissed me. I know in my bones that you wanted to stay."

Alex pulls his hand away. "Yeah, well, I had to do something to get you to shut up."

There's a hitch in Mike's breath – one of devastating pain. "Where's my Alex? He would never treat me like this."

"Face it," the increasingly callous man mutters as he walks past Mike, "Alex Riley isn't even a real person."

Mike turns around abruptly. "I'm not giving up on you." He watches Alex until the man's out of sight and then pulls his tie off as a last outlet for his frustration. Knows he only has a handful of minutes before he also has to get out to the ring.

By the time he makes it to the staging area, he's composed himself – ever the consummate professional. Soon, he's running out to the ring and attacking Alex, not holding anything back. Selling his role to the fullest. It's supposed to be easy, but for Mike, it takes more out of him than any match or long-winded rant ever could.


	23. Memories

23. Memories

Alex steps onto the plane and spots Mike right away. It doesn't matter if he had been intentionally looking for the man or not, his sights always find Mike no matter where he is. He used to have fun with it; he used to play a game with himself and see how fast he could locate the guy in a crowded room. He'd even keep score according to the type of space he was entering, to try to hone his skill. Bustling banquet halls, crammed tour busses, hotel lobbies - anywhere and everywhere. Back then, he had no way of knowing his little game would end up becoming a way of life. It's been a month since he left Mike alone in that hotel room, and already it seems like he's broken every record a dozen times over.

Alex walks down the aisle wishing this trip could have been different. He always envisioned sharing his first Australian tour with Mike, but at least there was a silver lining: they got to spend time together. Sure, it was in a professional manner, in matches _against_ each other, but it was _interaction_. And at this point, that kind of proximity is all Alex has left anymore.

As he walks past Mike, he subtly glances down and he'd love nothing more than to claim the seat next to the guy, but his seat is a few rows further into the plane. Like Mike, his seat is also on the aisle, making it terribly convenient to stare whenever he wants. It's a twenty hour flight with the perfect kind of torture.

The temptation to look at Mike eats away at him, but he fights it off…until he no longer can. His resistance proves to be futile because looking at Mike would be tantamount to a security blanket and he _needs_ that warmth.

Alex's sights are fixated on Mike for a good while, watching the guy read his latest novel. And as Mike turns the pages, delving deeper into his story, Alex does the same. Page by page, he flips through the mental scrapbook of his own story with Mike. The memories are all so vivid, so tangible, like he can watch them being reenacted right in front of him.

Just then, Mike gets up, his book falling from his grasp and landing on his seat cushion. The instant Mike raises his head, Alex darts his eyes away from the man. Absently focuses on the back of the seat in front of him. But curiosity gets the better of him, like it often does when it comes to Mike, and his gaze is drawn back to the man who's now walking straight towards him. It's a jump start to his heart, a heavy inward beating. Alex looks to his lap wondering what Mike's doing, where he's going. There aren't many directions to walk in on a plane after all. Is he going to walk past him? Alex can't look away for long and he catches his breath when Mike stops right next to him.

"Is this seat taken?"

Alex finds himself flustered in the man's presence. He smiles warmly and shakes his head.

"Let me through, don't spoil my view," Mike recites as he squeezes past Alex to the vacant window seat beside him. He chuckles as he sits down, looking to Alex with a charming smile. "I've always wanted to say that."

"What's that from?"

"It's Def Leppard. Lyrics from one of their more obscure songs. Maybe that's why I like it so much."

Alex absorbs every word Mike says, each one of them as important as the next.

"Would you believe they're gonna be in L.A. in a few weeks? They're not even touring this year, it's just a one night thing and the part that really pisses me off is that it's the weekend of my birthday, and not even I can get my hands on a single ticket. You'd think after winning Money in the Bank, I'd have a bit more pull by now."

"I didn't know you listened to that kind of music."

"What kind of music?" Mike asks, feigning offense. "The _good_ kind of music?"

"They're that good?"

"Have you never heard them before?"

Alex hesitates, wonders if he actually has. "I'm not sure."

"C'mon, you must have," Mike insists. "_Rock of Ages_, _Love Bites_, _Pour Some Sugar on Me…_" Surely that last title would have triggered a response, but it doesn't so Mike continues. "_Bringin' on the Heartbreak_-"

"Oh right!" Alex exclaims, excited to have recognized a title. "Didn't Mariah Carey cover that song a few years back?"

"If you can call it that," Mike sneers. "Are you okay? I think the altitude is fucking with your head." Mike reaches over to feel Alex's forehead, really committing to his display of concern.

Alex brushes Mike's hand away. "Dude, I'm fine," he chuckles.

Mike smirks at his rookie giving him the once over. "Yeah, well…looks like I've really got my work cut out for me." Mike leans back against the headrest, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I love flying."

"You do? I figured being still like this would drive you crazy."

"Nope, long flights are my favorite. It gives me time to think. I'm always running around and there's never any real downtime, not even when I sleep. My mind's constantly working on overdrive, always thinking about what I have to do next, so flying is really the only timeout I get."

Alex bows his head. "That's sad."

"Nah, that's the life we signed on for. We all know that coming in. You have to embrace it, be grateful for every second. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Alex nods, really takes his pro's advice to heart. "So…what were you thinking about before you came over here?"

"I was thinking that you must be lonely sitting here all by yourself."

Alex looks to his friend. "Maybe a little."

Mike looks to Alex and nods. "Yeah, it can get pretty lonely sometimes. So, I thought I'd join you and you have to admit your life improved _immeasurably_ since I sat next to you."

Alex can't help but laugh and his cheeks start to heat up from the innocent exchange. He glances to his lap waiting for his laughter to subside.

"Would you like something to drink, sir?"

As Alex raises his head to answer the flight attendant, he catches a glimpse of a man sitting in the aisle seat a few rows ahead of him and his smile drops. The guy has a faux hawk just like Mike and then he realizes the man he's looking at _is_ Mike and a thick sadness befalls him.

"Sir, is there anything you'd like?"

Alex shakes his head, seriously doubts the thing he wants is in that cart of hers. "No thanks," he says flatly. He dares to look to his right and just as he feared, the seat's empty. It was just a memory.

Alex watches the stewardess make her way up the aisle until she finally reaches Mike. He listens closely, waiting for the man to speak. Hearing the guy's voice might lessen the pain brought on by his recollections, but all Mike does is shake his head and give a flick of his wrist as he delves deeper into his novel.

The knot in Alex's stomach twists angrily. He hates long flights.

**xxxx**

When he lands in Los Angeles, instead of catching his connecting flight back to Tampa, Alex catches a cab. Part of him just wants to stay in the same town Mike lives in for as long as he can and another part of him just can't finish the trip in one go. He checks himself into the nearest hotel and crashes on the bed. He falls asleep the instant his head hits the pillow. It's amazing how exhausting sitting for hours on end can be. Not to mention, how exhausting it is to be left alone to his thoughts and failures for just as long.

As the sun's starting to set, he's awakened by his phone. He curses himself for not setting the ringer to silent, but then he sees who's calling. It's Mike. This just makes him feel worse than he already did because he wants to answer, but he knows he can't. He stares at Mike's illuminated name until the screen fades to black, and then he keeps staring. The entranced man is startled when his phone alerts him to a new message. He knows it's from Mike and he's never dialed into his voicemail faster. Just to hear his voice…

_Hey, Alex. I, um, I just wanted to…hear your voice, make sure you got home alright, but I guess you're busy. Unpacking or… I thought our matches in Australia went over real good. The audience seemed to really like them. I hope you're okay. You really hit your head hard during our tables match… Y'know, on our way back to the States, I thought about our first flight together. It was from Chicago to L.A. Remember that? I came over and sat next to you, setting quite the precedence, I might add…_

Alex laughs just as Mike does.

…_I had to be near you, even back then. And everything you said made me laugh and it wore me out so badly I ended up falling asleep…_

Alex brings his hand up to the opposite shoulder.

…_against your shoulder. I should have known right then and there. I never slept so good in my life…_

Alex curls up on the bed, melts into Mike's voice.

…_I talked to McMahon and he told me we only have a couple more matches left and then I'm getting a new storyline. I don't know if he's called you yet or…_

Alex listens to heavy breathing, which manages to be contagious.

…_They're putting me in a tag team with R-Truth. I don't get why they would put me with Ron when we were right there…We could've…_

Alex listens to Mike breathe for a long stretch and then hears him sniffle just as the message cuts off. He saves the voicemail and forces back the tears. He won't allow himself to cry, not at any cost. Because crying is a luxury he doesn't deserve. He doesn't deserve to feel sorry for himself, he doesn't deserve to mourn what he lost because he's the one who pushed it away. He doesn't deserve to have anything good. He did this.

His eyes drift shut, denying himself the emotional release his body is screaming out for.

**xxxx**

Depression takes root in a way Alex couldn't have foreseen. His body needs an outlet for his sorrow and it finds one. He wakes up drenched in his own sweat, his sheets soaked through to the mattress. He's exhausted when he opens his eyes, breathing in a panic and he knows his dreams must have been turbulent. So much so that he never remembers them.

He goes home to Tampa on his days off. Spends hours at the gym, filling his head with numbers as he counts the reps, to keep himself from thinking about anything else. But once he stops, he thinks about Mike all over again. He goes home to shower. The steam relaxes his muscles and clears his head, but of course that doesn't last either. As much as he knows he shouldn't go to a club, he finds himself going anyway. Needs the escape, the change of scenery.

He doesn't go for the alcohol though. He won't even let himself be tempted by it. In all the ways he's hurting Mike, he would never insult him by numbing his pain with a shot glass, not again. And on top of that, if Mike's in pain, then _feeling_ the pain is a way for Alex to remain close to him; it's a way for him to stay connected to Mike. Alex leans against the bar, sipping on a ginger ale as he looks around to all the moving bodies. Girls he would have been attracted to in the past have no effect on him and even if they did, they wouldn't understand him the way Mike does anyway. And the guys? Mike's the only man Alex has ever been attracted to.

The plain truth of it all surrounds him, it's in every direction. It's a sea of mediocrity. Mike knew it. And Alex knew it. He just needed to see it again, to remember why he fights so hard. Mike outshines all the rest. No one compares him. No one will ever compare to him. There will never be anyone else for Alex but Mike.

It's a sobering realization, because if he's not going to drink, if he's not going to dance, and if he has no intention of hooking up with a random fling or at the very least, talking to anyone, then what's the point of subjecting himself to any of this for another minute? He throws back the rest of his drink and sets his glass on top of some cash and turns to leave. As he does, he just about topples over a woman who'd been standing entirely too close.

"Sorry," he grumbles, taking her by the shoulders and casually placing her out of the way.

"No worries, hun," she says, holding her cocktail up so it doesn't spill on her dress. "Oh, hey Alex!"

Alex looks to the woman quizzically, trying to place her face. Thinks she looks familiar, but she's probably just a fan he's met somewhere along the line. "How's it goin'?" And he doesn't want to start a conversation, he's just trying not to be an ass.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Alex purses his lips because now he's been put on the spot and he feels awkward. Plus, it doesn't help that three of her girlfriends won't stop checking him out. "I meet a lot of people, sweetheart."

"It was right here, actually, a few feet back that-a-way," she points. "Late last year."

Alex waits for something to click, but it doesn't and he can't figure out why the woman is unnecessarily drawing this whole thing out longer than it needs to be.

"Eliese," she finally says, holding her hand out to the side as if she's showing something off. In this case, herself. "Ring a bell?"

"Oh right." Alex aims his finger at her, forcing a smile. "Uh, lingerie football."

"That's right!" Eliese reaches out to feather her hand over Alex's impressive bicep.

"Well, I gotta get goin'," Alex says, ignoring Eliese's transparent flirtation.

"So soon?"

"Yea, early morning and all."

"Hold up a sec, let me give you my number."

"Oh, that's not necessary. I'm not home very often." At this point he doesn't even care if he just lied.

"C'mon," Eliese begs.

Knowing that the quickest way to get out of the club is to just get the persistent woman's number, Alex pulls out his phone and lets her key the digits in. He feels bad for being so short with her. In all honesty, Eliese would have been exactly the type of girl he would have fallen head over heels for – she's gorgeous, and not the _playboy bunny_ type of gorgeous, she's the _girl next door_ type of gorgeous. She's outgoing, personable, athletic, bubbly and cute. He would have rearranged his whole life for someone like her, but that was a different life.

"Now, you be sure to call me next time you're in town, handsome…Or maybe if you're just lonely." She winks at Alex as she slides his phone into his pocket, her fingers deliberately grazing his thigh.

Alex stifles the laugh that's tickling the back of his throat. It's been a while since he's allowed himself to be hit on and he wonders if it had always been this ridiculous. "It was nice seeing you again, Eliese."

Alex walks towards the exit and for the first time in his life, he hopes no one else recognizes him.


	24. Messages

24. Messages

Alex drags his feet into his hotel room. He just finished his last match with Mike and he has no idea if he'll have a match next Monday and frankly, he doesn't care. All he can think about is how Mike will be paired up with R-Truth in a matter of weeks. He thought being out of Mike's orbit was going to be the worst part of this whole mess and he even tried to prepare for the day, but he never saw this twist coming. Although, when he thinks about it, it makes perfect sense.

Of course Mike would be teamed up with someone else. It's just another way for Vince to exert his power over him and drive the knife in deeper. He'd quit if it wasn't for the fact that it's his only way to remain in any kind of reasonable proximity to Mike. Because, if he left the company, it's not like he would automatically get to be with Mike anyway. It's clear Vince wouldn't stand for that. Mike's job would be put in jeopardy again, so Alex has no choice but to stay.

A sudden vibration in his pocket. In the moments between grabbing his phone and looking at the caller ID, he prays it's Mike. The guy has left a couple messages for him since they returned from Australia, and at this point, it's the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

He chokes up when he sees that his prayer has been answered. He sits on the bed, waiting for Mike to leave his message and then he's pressing his phone to his ear so hard needing to hear what he's said. He waits for Mike's voice. The few seconds of silence feel like forever, his heart pounding violently in anticipation. Speak!

_Sometimes, I feel like I lost you. Like I literally lost you. A couple weeks ago you told me Alex Riley isn't real, but that's just a name, not who you are. You'll always be my Alex and I still don't know what happened to him. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my best friend. I never had a friend like him before. He was always there for me. I could talk to him about anything and he'd never judge me or laugh at me. He'd never hurt me. But y'know, I think I saw him last night, the way he smiled at me. Like it was just him and me again. I keep thinking about it. I miss that smile…I know you're still in there._

Alex sighs, dropping his head into his hand. It was a moment of weakness, of forgetfulness. A smile shining in Mike's bright blue eyes was all it took for Alex to lose himself, forget where he was, _when_ he was. He couldn't help but return the smile. A subconscious effort to send Mike a message, perhaps – to give him a shred of hope, in hopes that he'd call again, even if his call wouldn't be answered.

…_I'm gonna remember that one. I'm gonna make it last until I can make you smile again…_

_x_

_You were in my dream last night. It was kinda scary but when I woke up I was just so happy to have seen you and- and to have heard your voice. It made me feel safe again. Sometimes I wish I could sleep all the time, just to get the chance to see you but they're keeping me pretty busy. Not that it matters. A lot of the time, it's hard for me to sleep anyway. I lie there thinking you're gonna walk through the door and I keep telling myself to wait one more minute before I close my eyes and when that minute is up, I convince myself to wait one more. The best nights are the ones where I let myself imagine that you do walk through the door and I feel your arms around me and you whisper to me, You can sleep now…_

_x_

_I have to go to a _Be A Star_ rally tomorrow but I don't feel like much of a star without you. I have to get up there and fake a happy-go-lucky smile, act like some kind of role model to these kids. Convince them not to bully other kids because they're better than that. Convince the kids who are bullied to be strong, to be themselves and that it's okay to be different. That they're not nothing. But sometimes that's all I feel like. Nothing. When I was with you, I wouldn't even have to think about the speeches I gave. They all came so effortlessly. But now? I meant what I said, I'm nothing without you…_

_x_

_I miss you. And maybe you think it's just at night because that's when I always call, but it's not. It's all day, too. Everything I do reminds me of you. I can't even turn on the radio because you're in every song. And y'know, I never talked about it because when I was with you I forgot how much I used to hate driving to events, but I did. More than anything. It always felt like a big waste of time being behind the wheel, but when you'd be next to me, it seemed like there was never enough time. Even if we didn't talk, just being near you was enough to make me want to spend the rest of my life in that car. I miss that. Sitting next to you for hours, just the two of us. You are literally the only person I've ever been able to travel with who didn't drive me nuts. Everyone else has these quirks that end up pissing me off after a while, but not you. I miss all the fun we had at house shows. I miss working out with you. Sometimes I see you in the gym and I just want to be able to lift weights with you again. It's stupid, right? But I can't help it. I miss when we got to do interviews and autograph signings together. Even before when we were just friends…though I'm not sure we were ever just friends. Just being around you made me happy. Even my worst days were some of the best days of my life because you were there. I don't know what the point of all this is if I'm not sharing it with you…_

_x_

_I had another dream about you last night. Why does it always have to be so damn scary? I guess I should just be grateful that I actually got some sleep…_

_x_

_I hate my storyline. I have to be mean and angry all the time, and everything is just off with _him_. It should be you and me out there. That was the plan…_

**xxxx**

It's been two months since Mike started leaving Alex voicemails and Alex hates the way Mike's suffering has managed to worsen over time. He needs to talk to him, even if it's just to provide him some encouragement with what he's dealing with. Remind him how he's always been able to make the best out of any situation. Remind him that he _is_ strong and resilient; that he's facing a challenge like any other. So, he decides that the next time Mike calls, he'll pick up and he does.

"Hi…" Mike says, stunned that Alex actually answered the phone.

"Mike, I just-"

Thinking Alex is about to tell him to stop calling, Mike cuts him off. "Listen, I'm gonna have some time off coming up. Two weeks actually. And I think we should meet up, at your place or mine, either way, and we could talk about things. Wherever you-"

"Why would you have off for two weeks?" There's a thick slab of concern spackled in Alex's voice. This kind of thing doesn't just happen in their line of work, especially to someone whose job he's doing everything in his power to _save_.

"It's nothing. It's stupid. They're firing me-"

"Wait, what?" Alex's heart pounds like a tribal drum at hearing _those_ words, in _that_ order.

"It's no big deal. It's just part of the storyline."

Alex's breath starts to tremble. It's a message to him. It has to be. A threat of the ultimate punishment. It's not over. It'll never be over until he has nothing left and as long as he's in communication with Mike, he still has something.

"Alex, are you still there?"

"I made a mistake. I shouldn't have picked up."

"Alex, wait-"

"Goodbye, Mike."

Alex can still hear Mike on the line, begging him not to hang up as he puts an end to the call. Immediately, he scrolls through his contact list and selects a number. Holds the phone up to his ear and hopes his call is answered before he changes his mind and much to his _disappointment_, it is.

For a second, he doesn't speak because hearing the voice on the other end of the line makes him sad. It seems to be the saddest moment he's experienced throughout this entire ordeal. In speaking, he'll be putting the greatest measure of distance between himself and Mike, so for just a few more precious seconds he pushes that inevitability away until he no longer can. "Eliese?"


	25. It's Called Closure

25. It's Called Closure

Mike throws his smart phone to the bed with such force it bounces to the floor. He's so angry and hurt by the pictures Alex posted of himself with his _girlfriend_ on twitter. Feels like the guy is just doing it to piss him off. But to what end?

For the past two months, Mike has idly watched as Alex continuously flaunts his newfound relationship online. He knows he should just stop following him on the social networking site, and he knows how he must look in the man's eyes, but he can't bring himself to sever the last tie. After all, he meant what he said, that he'd never give up on the guy. Plus, it doesn't help that part of him is just plain stubborn.

Either way, it doesn't change the fact that all of his pent up frustration is in need of an outlet.

In all the time since the break up, he's never been able to talk to anyone about what he's been going through and at this point he can only think of one person he can share his problem with. So after a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, Mike collects the collateral damage known as his phone. Looks it over to make sure he didn't break it and when he discovers it's fine, he sends out a quick text.

He waits patiently for a response. Figures if he doesn't get one then confiding in someone isn't meant to be and that-

His phone beeps. Turns out it's meant to be.

**xxxx**

"Hey, man. Sorry to bother you," Mike says as he enters his fellow superstar's hotel room. It's exactly the same as his except the layout is backwards.

"You're not."

"I just don't know who else to talk to."

"Is this about Alex?"

"You'd think after six months it wouldn't be, but it is. He's all I think about." Mike falls heavy to the bed, sits there with his hands covering his face. "I think I'm losin' it, man."

Cody looks to the guy he envied for so long and now he can't help but feel grateful that he's not in Mike's position. "I saw the pictures he posted with that girl he's dating," Rhodes comments, guesses that must be the reason for Mike's impromptu visit.

Mike barely has it in him to roll his eyes. "Yeah, me too."

"I can't believe he's with a football player. Who's the guy trying to kid?"

Mike chuckles half-heartedly and then it hits him how inappropriate it is to be talking to someone who, in his own right, may very well still have feelings for Alex. "Oh shit, Cody. What was I thinking? You don't want me talking to you about this." The broken-hearted man gets up and heads to the door. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all and under the guise of concern lies the perfect excuse for him to get the hell out of the conversation he's so foolishly initiated.

"Miz, don't worry about it." Cody reaches out, his palms meeting advancing shoulders, blocking Mike's path to the door. "I accepted that Alex was with you a long time ago. It's not a big deal. I've moved on."

"See, that's normal! That's what's supposed to happen! I'm supposed to move on." Falling back down to the bed, Mike's temperament once again becomes subdued, sad. "_He_ moved on. How'd he move on so easy?"

Cody sighs. "Maybe…don't take this the wrong way, but maybe that's because he…"

Mike looks up to Cody. "Because he what?"

"I mean, are you sure he wasn't with her before you two split?"

Mike scoffs and shakes his head.

"But you did ask him, just to make sure, right?"

"I didn't have to. I have a million unanswered questions, but that's literally the one thing I'd never have to worry about." Mike shuts his eyes and holds in his sadness until he can't. "It gets worse every day," he sobs tearlessly, clutching his stomach. "Why does it hurt so much, Cody?"

"Because you're in love with him."

Mike grimaces with an all encompassing pain. Oh, the weight of that word. "It would be so much easier if I could just hate him."

"Nothing's ever easy when it comes to love…especially hate."

Mike is quiet. Sometimes he fears that he's blown everything out of proportion. That he's become obsessed merely with finding out the truth and that love is just an excuse he clings to. But just like every other time, his thoughts flood with the memories he created with Alex. He accesses his whole life with the man within the confines of a single heartbeat and the truth it reveals reminds him it _was_ real. It was all real.

Being with Alex was the greatest time in his life, even with all the external challenges they were faced with, because they were a team. Every day was worth it because they were together. And even now he's well aware that the only reason he's still breathing is because Alex is still breathing. The man gives him the strength he needs to carry on even when he sends out stupid pictures that infuriate him and infect the wound.

"You wanna hear something pathetic?" The question is rhetoric. Mike doesn't really care if Cody wants to hear it or not because he's going to say it anyway. Needs to tell someone, if only just once, to feel less alone. "I use the same kind of body wash he used when we were together so I can feel like he's next to me when I go to sleep, because it's the only way I _can_ sleep anymore," he confesses, head to the floor. "And when I actually do, I have the most vivid dreams, like they're really happening…or like they _have_ happened."

"Really?"

Mike nods. "Almost every time I fall asleep since the night he left and they're basically the same every time." Mike pauses for a second, starting to feel anxious as he visualizes his dreams. "Sometimes I'll be in a plane and it's going down but it's in slow motion so everyone has time to get out and everyone does because there's this huge pile of parachutes on the floor. And I'm sitting there and I can see people jumping to safety all around me but I can't move and I realize it's because my seatbelt is jammed. I'll look over and Alex will be right there next to me and he'll be trying to break me free but he's not strong enough. Or I'll be drowning and he'll be underwater with me but there's a weight around my waist, it's like a fucking cannonball, and it's pulling me down and he can't pull me to the surface."

"Those sound like nightmares."

Mike nods in agreement, scrunches his faux hawk. "They're tedious. It seems like they drag on forever and they always end the same way."

"Why? What happens?"

"Basically when he realizes he can't save us both, he tells me how much he loves me and he keeps saying how sorry he is, over and over, and there's more but I can never understand exactly what he's saying, it just sounds like his voice is muffled. Y'know, the engine of the plane or the water or whatever it is, it always interferes. But the worst part is when he has to leave me behind. I can't go with him and that's when I wake up. And then the most amazing thing happens. In those few seconds between sleep and awake, I'm really still and calm. It's like I'm somewhere else and it feels like he's in the bed next to me, like it was before. I try to stay there as long as I can because even though I don't know what he was apologizing for, I know that in my dream I understand why he has to let me go and I always forgive him. I try to hold onto that feeling throughout the day but then he does shit like _this_ and I just don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Jesus, Mike…" Cody sighs sympathetically and Mike raises his head looking so lost, silently pleading for some kind of direction. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but it sounds like you need closure. You should talk to him."

"Don't you think I've tried?"

"So try again," Cody urges.

"Maybe you could talk to him for me."

Cody crosses his arms, taking a step back, chuckling. "What are we, in junior high?" He waits for a response, but Mike just continues his silent plea. "I can't get in the middle of this, Miz. Besides, I already tried talking to him about the whole thing back when it first happened and he completely shut me out."

"Really?"

Cody nods. "So to be honest, I really think, if anyone's gonna talk to him, if anyone has a chance of getting through to him, it'll be you. It _should_ be you. And this is something you _need_ to do 'cause you can't go on like this. Look at you. It's affecting your whole life, and I hate to say it, but you suck in the ring."

"It's that noticeable?"

"Ron couldn't even carry your sorry ass. You know, you're never gonna be WWE Champion again at this rate."

"I don't care. I'd give it all up, _all of it_, to be with him again."

Cody tucks his chin in, peers down to Mike. "You still care."

"I care about _him_."

"So, go to him!"

Mike rolls his eyes. "So, what? I should just go knock on his door?"

"Sure, why not?"

Mike laughs in disbelief, wishes it was as easy as Cody's making it out to be. He stares at the guy defiantly, thinks maybe if he glares long enough, Cody will give him a different answer, but the younger man doesn't budge.

Mike huffs. He's never liked losing at anything - whether it be a fight, a game, an argument - but deep down he's grateful to be given an excuse, a _reason_ to talk to Alex that doesn't come directly from his own nagging insistence. "Do you know what room he's in?"

**xxxx**

It's not exactly as if Alex is in the next room over, so there's considerable effort on Mike's part to get to him. And that means it's taking time. Time for him to convince himself what a horrible idea this is, time for him to turn around and forget the whole thing, but to his surprise, it isn't enough time and before he knows it, he's knocking on the door labeled with the three numbers Cody gave him. There's no turning back now.

_Mike._ The name rolls off Alex's tongue the instant he connects with the remarkable blue eyes that stand before him, obviously surprised by the unannounced visit.

"Hi," Mike says sheepishly. He hasn't been this close to Alex in months and he's not sure if he can handle it, which is ridiculous. He's exchanged bodily fluids with this man, been in compromising positions with him, their naked bodies entangled - images that make him blush at the mere remembrance of them. They've seen each other cry for fuck's sake. At the very least they should be able to have a conversation. "Can I come in?"

Alex can feel the brave front he's worn for half a year start to crumble as he invites Mike into his room and as the guy walks past him, their arms migrate towards each other so close that Alex can feel the warmth radiating off Mike's bare skin. It's enough to make him want to weep. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" Mike echoes the slightly altered question in amazement, finds Alex's concern laughable. "No. Not at all."

God it hurts to look at him, to be within arm's reach of what he wants but can never have, but Alex remains committed to his resolve. "What is it?"

"You're seeing that girl."

"Fuck," Alex whispers, deeply disappointed, just as a doctor would be if his patient experienced a relapse, and of course that's where Alex has gone wrong. Mike isn't someone who needs to be fixed or reprogrammed; he isn't some kind of project. So with that, everything he thought he had been accomplishing is wiped away with a single sentence. Quickly, he's forced back into the isolated corner he's relegated himself to, his guilt gnawing away at him again.

It was his last resort: having a girlfriend. He honestly thought that if Mike saw him with someone else, he'd have no choice but to finally let him go. But seeing as how Mike waited two whole months to confront him about Eliese, tells Alex he's been trying too hard and now it's backfired in the worst way.

Alex wipes his brow. He's frustrated and so tired of hurting Mike again and again, but it's almost become second nature to him at this point. "When are you gonna let this go, Mike?"

Mike starts to well up, disappointed he's lost the upper hand so soon and with it, his composure. What was left of his confidence is replaced with brazen, unapologetic honesty instead - the kind only Alex has ever managed to evoke in him. "Can't you see that you're killing me?"

"Why can't you just accept that it's over?"

"Because you won't tell me _why_ it's over!" Mike bellows. "You won't tell me what I did wrong. And you continue to hold this secret sin I committed over my head!" Mike rushes to Alex and grabs his shirt in clenched fists, knuckles turning white and Alex grabs his hands and tries to pry them off of him. "Is there not a statute of limitations to this suffering? Can I never be absolved?" Mike cries with a vanishing voice, pulling Alex close, his forehead falling to the man's shoulder. "Just tell me what I did," he whimpers, the plea ripping from the lining of his tortured soul.

It's just too much. It's too powerful to fight. Alex stops grasping at the back of Mike's hands and holds them instead. Leans his cheek against Mike's soft hair. It's not a conscious decision on his part - his eyes drifting shut as he melts into the familiar comfort of Mike's touch; the _pull_ the man has over him ever present. "You didn't do anything," he confesses softly into the broken man's ear.

"Then what is it?!" Mike barks, snapping Alex out of his momentary lapse with a forceful shove to his chest and when the man won't answer, he shoves him again. "I deserve closure!"

"You want closure?!" Alex shouts abrasively. "How's this for closure: I'm not gay! I don't want to have sex with a man!" With this venomous outburst he pushes Mike twice as hard as he was pushed and there's nothing he regrets more in his pathetic excuse of a life than saying what he just did. He feels himself being hurled into the deepest rift born of the catastrophe he created, the darkness of the abyss devouring him whole. He only wishes the ground would do the same.

Mike barely catches his footing, Alex having shoved him so much harder than the guy probably intended, but that doesn't even matter - his words are what hurt the most. The tongue proving sharper than any blade, more powerful than any punch. The words echo, rippling through the dense air, each iteration seeming louder than the last. The stabbing is in Mike's chest, feeling like it's punctured a lung. His stomach twisted tight; knotted rustic rope. He can't believe Alex would say something so insulting, so absolute. So untrue. But how can he possibly argue with it?

He looks to his feet, seeking some kind of solace from the fact that he's still standing and that he's still alive, but reality is of no consequence because he doesn't feel alive.

It's Alex walking out of his hotel room all over again, leaving him alone, to drown in a deluge of his own tears.

The point has come where Mike has no other choice than to accept that the battle raging inside of him for so long has finally come to an abrupt end. The casualty count: one.

He tries to swallow but he can't, his mouth so dry. "Are you happy with her?" Mike's voice is tired and raspy from the fight, but he has to know.

"Never been happier."

Mike looks up to Alex. Despite the hell the man's put him through, he still loves him and always will but he can't bear to look at him much longer. Only a few seconds more.

Alex locks onto Mike. He's had plenty of time to perfect a callous, impenetrable stare. His eyes are so steady he should win an award for his convincing performance. But the pain he feels when Mike looks back to the floor shatters that illusion. He fears those distressed eyes will haunt him for the rest of his days and he has no one to blame but himself…_again_.

Mike clears his throat. "Because that's all I ever wanted for you," he adds. "To be happy."

Alex looks away, Mike's love too strong for his defenses; bores its way through the chinks in his rusting armor. His chin starts quivering and if Mike were to look up again, the ruse would be exposed for the load of bullshit that it is, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts moving forward and when he's standing beside Alex, he pauses. Grabs the man's shoulder and gives a firm squeeze. Alex reaches up to grab Mike's hand but it's too late and Mike's already at the door. Frantically, Alex turns around wanting to stop Mike from leaving but his voice fails him and he's left feeling like he's lost the guy all over again.

Mike's trapped in a thick fog as he makes his way down the hall towards the elevator. He's so depressed and consumed by a debilitating heartache that he doesn't notice the beautiful brunette walking past him.


	26. It's Called Exposure

26. It's Called Exposure

Alex is frozen where he stands and though the lights are on, darkness embraces him. He's numb. For all his faults and all the wrong turns he's made in trying to protect Mike, he's never been _heartless_. And now he knows Mike must hate him. So, there he stands, alone in his empty hotel room, finally succeeding in driving Mike away once and for all, and feeling like a failure in doing so.

The state of shock he's drowning in pulls him further from the surface until a knock at the door pulls him up from the depths of his self-inflicted despair. He rushes to the door, his mind racing with everything he should have said to Mike - how he's the only one who can make him truly happy, et cetera, et cetera, _fucking_ et cetera. He vows to tell the guy the whole truth when he sees him standing there willing to give him yet another chance he knows he doesn't deserve.

"Surprise!" Eliese shrieks, and the irony of this moment makes Alex feel like vomiting. "Well, aren't you gonna invite me in?"

Alex opens the door as far as it will go and squeezes past Eliese as if she isn't there. Peeks his head around the corner to see if Mike's still around. He sees the guy stepping into the elevator and then he's gone.

"I just saw your friend in the hall," the oblivious woman says. "I said hi to him but I don't think he heard me. Dude looks like he just got hit by a Mack truck so I guess I can't blame him. Did you two-"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I know you're going home for Thanksgiving in a couple days so I wanted to surprise you before you leave." Eliese grabs Alex and pulls him down into a kiss, her tongue breaching the barrier of resistant lips. "I thought we could grab a bite to eat…and then we could come back here and…" her voice trails off as she starts grasping at Alex's shirt, hardly disguising her intentions.

Alex grabs his girlfriend's busy hands, so small compared to Mike's. "I really can't eat right now."

This persistent woman is the last person Alex wants to see and he hopes she's right - that Mike didn't hear her when they crossed paths. What he said to the man he silently claims to love was abhorrent, but if he would've seen Eliese on top of that, it would be so much worse and that's something that shouldn't be possible. Thinking about Mike leads him to relive the entire confrontation over in his mind - what he said, what he should have said, what he should have done. Regrets stack one on top of the other. All of which are variations of the same mistake and if it wasn't for his misguided attempts at what could only be compared to _martyrdom_, he'd be in bed right now with the man he tries so hard to protect and suddenly he realizes that he _is_ in bed, but it's not with Mike.

Eliese has mounted him.

Alex is shirtless and pinned beneath his girlfriend's petite frame. His unwelcome pursuer clad in only her bra and barely enough material to be identified as panties.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asks seductively, reaching down to his groin, groping him through tight jeans.

Alex grabs hold of Eliese's delicate wrist. He's so furious - at her, at himself – that he doesn't concern himself with her feelings. "Get off."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

Alex doesn't think she's funny in the least. "What part of this situation tonight told you I wanted to fuck?"

"What part of any situation tells me you want to fuck?"

Insulted and feeling violated and humiliated, Alex slides out from underneath her, leading her off the bed.

"You're like a fucking monk!"

Alex points to the door. "Just put your clothes on and leave."

Eliese snatches her clothes from the floor. "You're unbelievable. Is it a crime to want to have sex with my boyfriend?"

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't need this right now," he mutters through gritted teeth, wide-eyed and stunned that his life is so fucked up.

"So that's it then?" The question is purposely rhetorical, but Eliese waits for an answer anyway. When Alex doesn't acknowledge that she's said anything at all, she goes off on him. "Man, you've got serious issues. What kind of guy, what kind of good looking, successful guy," she says pushing his chest, embarrassed, offended, "doesn't want to get laid by _this_?" The irate beauty emphasizes the point by running her hand in front of her attractive body as if she were on display. "I don't even think _girls_ wait as long as you these days."

"That's enough!"

"You think I'm stupid, but I always knew you were stuck on someone else. I was right here waiting…more than willing to take your mind off her but you would never let me, you fucking asshole!"

Alex looks to Eliese curiously. One, he's never heard her use such profanity before and two, _her?_

"She used to work with you, didn't she? Before they fired her ass." She nods assuming she's right, trying to coax an admission from Alex, like it'll vindicate her verbal abuse of the guy.

There it is again, a reference to a female. "What are you talking about?"

"There's no point denying it, Alex. I know you're hung up on that French chick. _Maryse_, is it? Is that why Mike was all out of sorts in the hall? Did he just find out? Dude can't be that clueless. It was so obvious you were hot for her!"

The expression on Alex's face is one of great disdain. The thought of Maryse sickens him.

Eliese is quick though. She picks up on the way her accusations vehemently disagree with her boyfriend and after a few seconds of confusion, it hits her. "Oh my God," she says, her epiphany suddenly making everything so clear. She looks back to the door and then to Alex again. "I always thought _she_ was the one you were pining after. I mean, you even said her fucking name…But she wasn't, was she?"

"Eliese," Alex warns sternly.

"You weren't looking at her the night we met, you were looking at _him._" Eliese seems quite satisfied with herself for piecing the puzzle together. "It's Mike."

Alex shakes his head, trying to deny it but his eyes can't lie, not this time.

Eliese chuckles. "You're even more pathetic than I thought."

Alex sighs, feeling queasy. "Alright, you've had your fun. Can you please leave now?"

"So, if you're so in love with him, why'd he look like he'd just taken the beating of his life? What the hell did you do to him?"

Alex folds his arms across his chest, remains silent. Doesn't understand why she feels such an affinity towards Mike all of a sudden, although it's nice to know someone does.

"Goddamn, not only pathetic but stupid, too."

All too true, but Alex would never own up to it, not to her. Never would give her that kind of additional satisfaction. He glares at her, wondering why she hasn't left yet.

"So, am I the only one who knows then?" she asks, oddly fascinated by her newfound knowledge.

Alex realizes he has a choice. He could continue alienating the prying woman and risk her seeking revenge and outing him to the world or he could cool off and if he's lucky, secure her confidence in the matter. His pride wants to send her packing but he's not making this decision solely for himself. This is for Mike, too. Perhaps he can do one thing right in his life. "Pretty much," he admits, sourly.

Alex pulls out a chair and collapses into it. Eliese sits down as well. Looks at the shell of a man next to her. For a moment she wishes someone would be as equally distraught over her; thought Alex could have been that _special someone_, but that'll never happen now. Maybe it was just his looks that attracted her to him because when she makes her way through the humiliation of being rejected, it really doesn't hurt that much. Certainly nowhere near the hurt Alex is emoting. And this just makes her feel sorry for him.

"Listen," she says, her attitude much more palatable. "You can fix it."

Alex scoffs, rolling his watery eyes as he glances away. "You don't even know what happened."

Eliese takes a moment as she approaches the line. "You could tell me."

Alex looks back to Eliese. Her features soft and inviting. There's the compassionate girl he could have been friends with. A girl he could have gone to for advice and he's half-tempted to tell her everything but the unfortunate truth is, he doesn't feel like he can trust her. And more than that, he knows he doesn't deserve her trust, not after using her the way he did so he just looks away again. Overtaken by shame.

Eliese purses her lips. "Fine. You don't want to talk to me. I get it. But you should really talk to someone because you're about to bury yourself alive."

_I already have._


	27. In Confidence

27. In Confidence

Football has always been a constant in Alex's life. Since he was a kid he's been able to depend on the sport to keep him out of trouble; give him purpose. It's instilled in him a sense of ambition. Driven him to build up his physique and athletic ability; helped him gain confidence and become the man he is today. On a more emotional level, it simply makes him happy. When he'd be going through rough patches, he could always count on it to lift his spirits. Even in the off-season he could turn to a video game and that would be just as effective. Of course, this was all before he met Mike - his ultimate source of happiness.

With that, it's not surprising that Alex can't enjoy the current football game he's watching with his dad. It's their Thanksgiving Day tradition, to watch at least one game together. Well, that's what they like to try to do anyway. There have been a handful of times over the years where they couldn't fulfill their understood agreement…like last year.

Alex stares at his parents' television. One of the cameras focuses on the crowd, on a happy couple. They don't even know they're on the jumbotron, completely oblivious to the fact that they're in living rooms all across America. They only have eyes for each other.

Alex drops his gaze to his lap, remembering a similar moment he shared with Mike at the game they attended. Sometimes it feels like he's imagined the memory, willed it into existence, but no, it did happen. It _was_ real. Although, at this point, he's not sure what would be worse: dreaming it up or knowing it'll never happen again.

He looks up to his dad, puzzled. Knows he heard him say something but he's not sure what.

"I said your brother will be landing soon. I have to go pick him up."

"Oh, right," Alex says numbly.

He doesn't notice, but as his dad is walking past him, he looks to his wife and silently gestures to her to find out what's wrong with their son – Alex's behavior far from what they've ever been used to.

So, when her husband leaves and she's finished setting the table (so as not to be too obvious with her timing), Lauren sits on the adjacent couch across from Alex. Turns to the game, showing her interest. "Who's winning?"

Alex sighs. He doesn't even know and he doesn't have the strength to pretend to care. The only strength he seems to have left is spent on picking up the remote to turn off the flat screen. With his dad gone for at least a solid hour, Alex knows if he's going to say anything, now would be the only chance he has. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie," she says, turning towards Alex.

"Can I tell you something?"

"You know you can tell me anything."

"But you have to promise not to tell him."

"I don't usually make it a habit keeping things from your father. You know what we've always taught you and your brother about honesty."

"_Mom_…" Alex begs, the hurt in his voice undisguised.

Lauren didn't want to be too presumptuous when she first sat down, but this is her son, her baby, and he's obviously in pain. She can't help but fully reveal her concern. "Is this about Mike?"

Alex's heart starts racing, just hearing the man's name.

"Because you could talk to me about him if you need to."

It takes Alex a few seconds. It's preposterous, she couldn't possibly, but then… "You knew?"

Lauren tilts her head, sees the fear and worry in her son's eyes. Sighs sympathetically, wants to break her answer to him as carefully as she can. "Kev, your father's the one who told me."

"Pop knows?!" Alex covers his face, falling back against the couch cushions, feeling mortified. "For how long?"

"Since the night you two came over."

"That was a year ago! Why didn't you guys tell me?"

"We didn't think it was our place. We knew you'd come to us when you were ready."

Alex glances up to his mom momentarily. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? Oh sweetie, of course not. Admittedly, I may have been _sad_ when we first discovered it, but that was only because I knew how difficult it must have been for you, and how you must have felt so isolated feeling like you couldn't share it with us. And as a mom, I always imagined you having a family of your own one day. It was impossible not to think about all the things you'd never get to experience, but it's your life. And this is your home and we're your family. You're safe here. Your father and I have accepted it."

Alex furrows his brow, less out of anger and more out of skepticism. "But he's a guy. It goes against everything you believe in."

"At one point," Lauren admits, nodding reluctantly. "But if there's anything I've learned about being a mom, it's that everything you believe in goes out the window when your child's involved."

"Everything?"

"Within reason. Opinions, points of view, they have a way of changing when you see your son happier than you've ever seen him before. When you see him interacting with someone who brings out this side of him that no one else ever has and that you always hoped was inside of him waiting to be tapped into. A person who makes him smile. And not just any smile. Witnessing a moment like that, as a parent, it's all I've ever wanted for you. I'd never want to deny you that just because it wasn't with the type of person I may have envisioned. And neither would your father. We love you now as much as we ever have. There's no need to hide who you are around us anymore."

Alex sighs weakly, gratefully. "Thank you, Mom. That means a lot." There's a huge relief that comes with finally knowing that his parents know and support him, but Alex can't fully appreciate the moment like he wishes he could because sadly, there's nothing left in need of support.

"And since you're my son, that means I still worry about you. I worry about how people would react if they found out. Not that I think you wouldn't be able to handle it, but with what you do for a living, it's not exactly as if-"

"You don't have to keep yourself up late at night worrying about it anymore. There's nothing to find out."

Lauren frowns, recognizes that sadness. "I know something happened between you two. For quite some time now."

"You do?"

Lauren nods. "I could tell months ago when you stopped talking about him when you'd call. And when I'd ask you about him…Honey, you seemed so lost." Alex's mom pauses, hesitates for a couple seconds and then leans in. "Kevin, did he do something to hurt you?"

Alex rolls his eyes, sinking back into the couch, feeling miserable – guilt the largest factor contributing to his current mood. "Mike would never hurt me." He becomes numb again, just thinking about what he did and what he said. Sees those broken eyes. Those broken blue eyes of the man he pledged to protect at all costs. "It was me. I did something unforgivable."

Lauren gives her son a chance to elaborate, but when he doesn't, there's only one thing she can think of that must have happened. "Was there someone else?"

"No, nothing like that. I mean, there was, but she came after." Alex huffs, frustrated with himself for not being able to speak clearly and knowing he must really be confusing his mom now. "It's not how it sounds."

"Why don't you tell me what it was then."

Taking Eliese's advice to heart, Alex starts from the beginning. Tells him mom all about how his DUI last year led him to his current situation. Can barely look at her. Ashamed. She didn't raise him to be this person.

"So, that's why you haven't been on tv?"

Alex shakes his head sadly. "And neither would Mike if I hadn't done what I did. He'd be in the same spot as me or worse, and he deserves to be in the spotlight. He's meant to be a champion. To be in main events. I mean, I still see myself laying there on the ground wanting so badly to help him. At that point, I didn't even know he was hurt, I didn't know what caused the double count-out, but inside I could feel that he needed my help, like he was calling out to me somehow. But I froze. I was too scared to defy orders and go off script. I was paralyzed and useless and this time I couldn't watch from the sidelines when I knew I could do something to protect him. He's meant to headline Wrestlemania again. How could I let anyone take that away from him?"

"Kevin…"

"And now I've ruined everything and he thinks I hate him. He thinks I don't… But I only did this because I…" Alex catches his breath. Can't bring himself to say the words because everything he's done mocks the declaration. Proves him out to be a liar and a fraud. His eyes start burning, but all these months later, he still won't allow himself to shed even a single tear. "I did this so he could be happy and all it's done is rip him apart. I destroyed the greatest friend I ever had. And the kicker is that he's willing to live with that because he thinks this is what _I want_! I'm a fuck-up who never deserved him in the first place."

"Don't talk about my son that way." Lauren tries to be funny, her sense of humor finding it hard to resist easing the tension, but it's no use. Quickly realizes her remark borders on inappropriate and reverts back into parenting mode. "You're a good man with a good heart and I know you had nothing but the best intentions when you walked away from him. But Kev, you've let this spiral out of control long enough. I'm serious. You can't let this continue. You can't change what's happened and you can't keep living in the past. It's not right to put yourself through this kind of stress. And by the sound of it, what you've also put that poor man through. I know, I know. Easy for me to say, I've never had to deal with anything like what you're going through. I don't know much about what you go through at work, but I do know you have to come clean with him. You have to tell him what happened and why you did what you did. You know how important honesty is, especially when it pertains to someone you care about as deeply as you do Mike."

Alex rubs his head, presses his palms to his eyes. "I don't know if I can ever face him again and even if I could, I know he wants nothing to do with me. I was so awful to him."

"If everything you've done has been for him, then don't you think the truth has to be for him, too?"

"What if he never forgives me?"

"You can't let that stand in your way. Whether he forgives you or not isn't the point. But surely he deserves the opportunity."


	28. Rays of Light

PART III

28. Rays of Light

In the two weeks after his confrontation with Alex, Mike has felt like he's been released from a strangle hold. His world has opened up and he has this _breathing room_ that hasn't been afforded to him since the night Alex left him alone in that hotel room. Part of it probably has to do with the fact that Alex hasn't posted a single picture of himself with his girlfriend, but even then, it's more of an inner peace Mike feels having taken a step back. He didn't even realize he'd put a time restraint on himself, like he was trying to beat some imaginary countdown accidentally set by himself, for himself. But ever since Alex said what he said - and it doesn't even matter if he meant it or not - Mike's been able to relax. It turned out to be exactly what he needed.

That's not to say he wasn't completely devastated by Alex's words at first, because he was, especially when compared to his own words all those months ago: his heartfelt plea to Alex, trying to convince him to reconsider breaking up with him. That candid monologue that poured from his soul, revealing his secret thoughts about their relationship and what being with the man actually meant to him. Then to hear Alex spit on the memory of their most intimate moments together, was gut-wrenching. But it was his wake up call, a sign as loud and clear as one could be - to just leave the man alone.

Moving on isn't an option anymore and it didn't take him long to realize that it never really was, but neither is constantly pressing Alex for answers. All that ever did was backfire on him and it impacted his life in such a negative way. People often say actions speak louder than words and the time had finally come for Mike to do what he'd been saying instead of screaming it all in Alex's face every chance he got. So, now, he must wait. Be patient. Have faith that the man will come back around and in the meantime, start getting his own life and career back on track.

This new outlook on life doesn't go unnoticed. Mike's more approachable backstage. He laughs and jokes around with the other superstars and they immediately want to be placed in matches with the former champ again, so that's what happens.

The talent aren't the only ones who see a difference - Vince takes note as well. Only in seeing Mike so happy and motivated again does he recognize just how far he let the guy fall. He feels a strong sense of guilt about sidelining Mike. After all, it's a far cry from setting him up to take a punch. He treated him – this man that was once handpicked to be at the center of his company, the face who represented his entire empire - not only as the means, but also as collateral damage in his pursuit to castigate Alex and perhaps he got carried away and enough is finally enough. Obviously he can't send him straight to the top, not even close, but he thinks finding a decent spot for him is not only reasonable, but doable.

After convening with the creative team, Vince calls Mike in for a meeting. Wants to talk to him personally. Not once does he ever tell Mike _why_ he's being placed in a particular match, but he's clear in his message that if he and Alex put on a good show, there could be potential for a new storyline for_ both of them_.

Mike walks out of the meeting completely stunned. He can't believe it. He had just accepted his current situation with Alex. He had just come to terms with the fact that it would be a long while - maybe months if he was lucky, maybe even a year - before he'd hear from Alex again and now he's been instructed to plan a match with the guy? To talk to him, to work with him as a team again? A glimmer of hope, a ray of light. Mike finds himself grinning as he walks down the hall, so excited to see where this new path could lead.

**xxxx**

The next night at a house show, Alex meets Mike backstage in a secluded room as per the request he received in a text. He's thought about the advice his mom had given him every day since Thanksgiving, but he hasn't had the courage to approach Mike. Couldn't even bring himself to pray for the courage. But now, here he is, sitting next to him and he can hardly look at him. He wants to look at him, he wants to fall to his knees and beg the guy for forgiveness but he's paralyzed by his own insecurities.

He knows Mike isn't sitting there judging him. Not once since the day they met did he ever feel like Mike would judge him or silently ridicule him, so it's not about that. It's the shame he feels and it tricks him into thinking there's a festering tension between them.

Mike looks to Alex and he can't help but notice how upset he seems, perhaps even annoyed. He's completely oblivious to the turmoil the guy's actually going through. Figures Alex just doesn't want to talk to him, but even with what he perceives to be a display of contempt, he wishes he could do something to make someone he not only loves, but more importantly, someone he still considers to be his best friend, feel better. "If you want, we could do this in the morning."

Alex glances to Mike out of the corner of his eye and then looks back to the table, shakes his head. "Now's fine."

Mike smiles, he was hoping Alex would stay. He adjusts himself in his chair, anxious to get started. "So, basically I was thinking we could use this opportunity to highlight all of our best moves and give the audience something really worth remembering. Remind them of how well we work together and how we play off each other."

Alex nods in agreement, timidly turning his attention to Mike as he speaks. His enthusiasm is infectious and Alex can't help but remember all the matches they planned together in the past, it was always his favorite part of the job. No matter how small or large his role would be, he was always impressed by the ideas Mike would come up with. The more Mike speaks - the more he hears the guy's voice - the easier it is for him to forget why he should be ashamed of himself. All the clunky baggage he lugged into the room vanishes and time stands still. This moment is the only thing that matters.

"I was thinking I could do a couple hip tosses and after each one I could brag about how incredibly talented I am, really play it up, annoy the shit out of 'em, and then I could do a third move and brag about that too, but then once you gain some control, you hit me with the same three moves all in a row, one right after the other and cover me and I think if people are paying attention, they'll see how you turned it around on me and you'll get a huge pop because of it. Hell, even if they aren't paying attention, you'll still get a huge pop."

Alex's smile withers. Mike's willing to make him look good. The play he described is more than anyone else would have given him, especially _now_. And this is _Mike_, a man he's treated in the most horrible way and still, _this_ is what he does for him. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course."

**xxxx**

The fans are extremely receptive of the former duo, the roaring jeers rivaling the cheers. It's the kind of engaged response any wrestler could hope for. The match is nothing less than _awesome_ and proves to be far more successful than either Mike or Alex could have predicted, yet one man already had a hunch it would be.

When Mike gets backstage, he doesn't even have time to find Alex before he's being summoned by Vince. His adrenaline is pumping, no room for nerves.

Vince meets with Mike and explains that he's willing to proceed with the storyline he alluded to in their last meeting. He gives a brief rundown of what's ahead in the coming weeks and then he asks Mike if he'll discuss the details with Riley.

Mike thought he was surprised by the outcome of his last meeting with his boss, but this one exceeds any expectations he may have had. He thanks Vince profusely for the opportunity he and Alex are being given and promises that they won't let him down.

Now, on the one hand, Mike is ecstatic. What Vince proposed is something he's wanted as long as he's known Alex, but on the other hand, the two aren't exactly in the place he always imagined they'd be when this kind of development presented itself.

A timeout is required to quell his excitement. He heads back to the locker room to shower and change, hoping he'll be able to pitch the new direction to Alex without seeming like he's pressuring him into agreeing to something he doesn't feel comfortable with.

After he's finished getting dressed, Mike locates Alex and is all too pleased to find him mingling with Cody and a few other wrestlers in the hall. He subconsciously slows down his pace, happy to see the man wearing a smile that had been hibernating for far too long and wanting to see it for just a little longer before he interrupts. And besides, he's a bit hesitant to interrupt anyway. It's not like it used to be. There used to be a time he'd find any excuse to touch the guy. He'd grope his bicep if he needed to pull him off to the side, drag his hand across his muscular chest, pat his ass if he was feeling really daring, but now when he approaches the small group and Alex looks to him, all he can do is give a quick tilt of his head. Lucky for him, Alex still follows.

"You were great tonight."

Alex nods, showing his appreciation, but he doesn't smile. "You, too."

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something." Mike brings his hand up to his flushed cheek, rubbing it.

Alex takes a deep breath, fearing another confrontation that could ruin any progress they've recently made. An all too familiar _stabbing_ attacks his chest.

"I just talked to McMahon and he went over an idea for a storyline for the two of us." Mike looks to his feet. "Basically on Smackdown this week we'd have another match and after it's over, we'd realize that we could accomplish more _together_ than we ever could apart and basically…he wants us to form a tag team."

Alex is dumbfounded. That's literally the last thing he ever expected Mike would say. He thought anything remotely close to becoming a tag team with Mike had become no more than a distant dream, but here it is staring him right in the face. Instantly, he wonders if it's a trick, a ploy; another mind game. Is McMahon trying to set them up for another fall? What's the catch? Alex hasn't a clue, but at this point, he'd feel like a fool to turn down the opportunity, especially since the tag team division has recently made a comeback and even though he and Mike weren't the ones to build it back up like they wanted to, it would be a privilege to be part of it.

Mike takes a small step back, crossing an arm over his chest. "We'd have to travel together though…and room together. Would you be cool with that?"

Alex swallows thickly, hopes he doesn't look too nervous. "I am if you are."

**xxxx**

It's the first night in the same hotel room again and Mike's hit with an incredible gamut of emotions. He's in complete awe that this is even happening and that he and Alex are a tag team. _A fucking tag team!_ He does everything in his power to act normal given the surreal situation, but everything inside of him is screaming at him to go hold the man. To celebrate. But that isn't an option, so he suppresses the desire. Along with another.

For a man who loves to talk, Mike doesn't say too much and what he does say is limited to their plans for the next day. He's not about to do anything that could jeopardize their arrangement.

They take turns in the bathroom, getting ready to turn in for the night, and then it's dark and they're both lying there, in separate beds.

Hotel beds can't compare to the comfort of his own bed at home, but with Alex so close, it enhances everything for the better. The pillow he's using cradles his head like it was made for him. The generic mattress is suddenly the most comfortable thing he's ever slept on - not too firm, not too soft - and what's more amazing is that he actually does sleep. It's the fastest he's fallen asleep in ages and the credit goes to one man. Ironically, it's the same man who's later responsible for waking him up in the middle of the night.

Mike opens his eyes and for once it's not because of one of his recurring dreams. It takes him a couple seconds to remember where he is, and when he does, he realizes why he's awake. It's Alex.

At first Mike thinks he must be hearing things, that he's mistaken, but he's not - Alex is crying. It's clear that he's trying to stifle the sadness he's leaking into the room but it doesn't work, even with the air conditioner on. And it's one of those loud rattling ones under the window. Mike's heart starts to pound. He wants to say something, do _anything,_ and again, it takes everything in his power to resist. Just then he sees Alex's dark figure get out of bed and disappear into the bathroom.

Mike sits on the edge of his bed looking towards the rays of light beaming through the outline of the bathroom door. And then he hears the shower start. He can only imagine that Alex must be using it as a cover, and it makes his chest ache. He waits for Alex to finish. Even if he can't take care of him, he'll be with him, he'll stay up with him and it doesn't matter if Alex knows it or not. He's with him.

When Mike no longer hears the sound of running water, he lies back down, pretending to be asleep. A few minutes later Alex comes out and Mike can hear the creaking of the bed frame as the man crawls back into bed.

Month after month, he knew something was terribly wrong. He blamed himself the whole time because what other reason could there have been for Alex to pull away so dramatically? But after witnessing Alex breakdown the way he just did, to be utterly broken, makes Mike wonder if there's more to the story - if there's another factor that contributed to their breakup.


	29. Release

29. Release

It's a luxury he doesn't deserve. That's what Alex had programmed himself to believe – that he didn't have the right to cry. But every night he spends in the bed next to Mike's, he finds himself involuntarily losing his grasp on that mindset. He releases tears, no longer able to hold them back. They just pour from him, leaking out of him uncontrollably; the pressure of remorse proving too strong for willpower's unfortified dam.

The attacks come not too long after he gets into bed, but long enough for him to think that Mike's already fallen asleep and he's grateful for that. Still, he takes a hot shower as added insurance.

The only good that comes from the emotional outlet is how tired he becomes afterwards; it drains him until his eyelids are too heavy to stay open - he can get six hours of uninterrupted sleep most nights because of it. What's more, he no longer suffers from cold sweats, which is a relief in and of itself. But that was always just a symptom that's now been replaced by another. The underlying problem remains the same, and perhaps is even worse now that he's spending so much time with Mike and unable to do the things he wants to do.

He can't kiss him, he can't hold him, he can't fuck him, he can barely speak to the man. All that on top of having to pretend like being in a tag team with the guy isn't the most amazing thing ever, has delivered Alex to his breaking point. It's all just too much.

If Vince ever wanted to truly torture Alex, he's done one hell of a job.

**xxxx**

Alex sits in the passenger seat, looking out the window with a vacant stare. He can't focus on anything except the feeling of his swollen eyelids and it makes him feel queasy knowing that Mike must notice. How could he _not_ notice? His eyes have been puffy every single morning they've woken up in the same room. It's so obvious he's been crying, but Mike never acts differently towards him. Never looks at him peculiar, or judgmental. Never asks him what's wrong. And Alex doesn't know if that's because Mike simply doesn't care or because he's afraid to show how much he does. Either way, it perpetuates his guilt because he's the one who's driven Mike to display such indifference.

Suddenly, Alex's body stiffens. He was slouched in his seat before, but now he's frozen and alert. There's a faint familiarity coming from the speakers and it makes his heart pound beneath his breast. He can hear the violent pumping of blood in his ears. It's so loud it might as well be the bass.

"We're superstars," Mike mumbles melodically, "we are who we are."

Alex isn't sure if the guy is even aware that he's singing. His stomach churns, his chest tightens. A flashback of the way he and his boyfriend used to crank up the volume and belt the song out as loud as their vocal chords would permit. They always had so much fun and now what used to be the most anticipated song on the radio has been reduced to background music.

It's a clawing inside. Alex's chin starts to quiver, he can feel his eyes stinging with the salt of unshed tears. Not now. It can't happen now. He blinks rapidly, trying to discourage the oncoming wave. And perhaps if the chorus had not repeated he could have pulled it together, but as soon as the second one hits, he can't sit idly by any longer. "Can you pull over?"

Mike looks around like he's trying to figure out if he's missed something because as far as the eye can see, there's nothing but farmland. "Right now?"

"I just need some air."

"We don't really have time-"

"Mike, pull the fuck over!"

Upon Alex's jarring insistence, Mike comes to a stop on the shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Without a word, Alex gets out and takes a deep breath of the crisp country air and then another. Wipes his eyes dry with his sleeve in case Mike gets out and sure enough he does.

Concerned and curious, Mike walks around the trunk of their rental car and over to the grass where Alex stands. "Are you okay?"

Alex's chin starts to quiver again. He doubles over briefly, his hands on his knees and then presumes to straighten his posture, his hand on his belly. "I have to tell you something."

"Why don't you tell me in the car, it's freezing out here," Mike says dismissively, rubbing his arms and turning away.

"Mike!" It's a moment of déjà vu. The panic in Alex's voice is reminiscent of the way Mike sounded when he called out to _him_, trying to stop him from leaving and the memory of that night is paralyzing.

The result of such a distressed cry is much the same, though - Mike turning back around just as _he_ ended up doing.

"I never wanted to break up with you." Alex catches his breath, surprised that he had found the courage to say the words. With one bold statement, he's released a truth that's been steadily bubbling up to the surface for the past week, and guarded inside of him for much longer than that.

Mike can't breathe, his eyes wavering from deep blue to deep blue, waiting for a punch line that doesn't exist. It's a sentence he's been desperate to hear for so long, but in hearing the words out loud, they lack a certain soothing caress he always thought they'd carry. "What?"

"I never wanted to break up with you."

"No. I heard you. But what do you mean?"

"I didn't have a choice. McMahon was gonna-"

"McMahon? What does Vince have to do with anything?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Alex runs his hands through his hair, scratching his head. It's time. "I never paid for my DUI. I mean, I did obviously, but not as far as company policy is concerned. I should have been suspended and McMahon, he never forgot about it. And then, remember he was gonna have me repackaged? That was supposed to be my punishment but I came back and he needed another way." Alex starts shivering; a combination of the cold air and the truth exiting his body…and the way Mike's looking at him. "Fuckin' Cena told me-"

"Wait. Now Cena's involved in this somehow?"

Alex nods. "He's the one who told me that McMahon knew about us. And that to punish me, he'd go through you."

"And you believed that douchebag?"

"Not at first." Alex looks up to a car passing by. Worried it might be someone from the company but it's not. "But everything started adding up. You losing the title was just the beginning."

"But we didn't care about that. We _wanted_ to be rid of it!"

"But in losing the title, you were also losing your reason for keeping me around." Alex's face drops. "We thought we were gonna be a tag team after that but the old bastard was planning the opposite, we know that now."

An innocent expression washes over Mike's face. "A push, _for you_," he says, embracing denial.

Alex shakes his head, saddened by all the things he lost. "No, we know that now, too. It's why I never had a story after ours wrapped up. My _push_," he says, feeling the nauseating irony of that word, "was never meant to go beyond what it did. But he knew that you'd believe it would and that's why he had you push me away and why he knew you would. You played your part exactly how you were meant to."

Mike furrows his brow - confused, appalled by the accusation.

"And we were going to adapt, make it work even though we'd be spending less time together, but it was the fact that I'd still be happy because I'd still be with you that he couldn't stand. The whole fucked up mess became personal to him, y'know, he was waging his own crusade against me. And he realized the only way to make me suffer was to attack me at my core, hit me where it would do the most damage. He wanted to make sure there was no way for me to get around it."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"He knew the only way to really hurt me was by hurting you and I couldn't allow that. I couldn't let you pay for the mistakes I made."

"He told you this?"

"No, but he didn't have to. The writing was on the wall. It was all right there." Alex isn't sure what Mike's thinking. The man seems skeptical and he can't blame him. He'd be skeptical, too, if he were in Mike's position. "Baby," Alex says emotionally, reaching out to grab Mike's hand, but Mike steps back with a defensive scowl. "Mike…"

Mike shakes his head. "We're gonna be late," he states, stoned-faced, turning away and walking back to the driver's side.

A sinking feeling in the pit of Alex's stomach. At least when Mike was in the dark, he knew he _couldn't_ be with him, but if the guy _doesn't_ want to be with him after finding out the truth…

It keeps getting worse and Alex doesn't understand why. He stands frozen; his body is so numb he doesn't even shiver. A minute passes, maybe two and he sees Mike through the window, just sitting there waiting. At least he didn't leave him in the middle of nowhere. Alex rolls his eyes, as if that's an actual consolation, as if he hasn't been in the middle of nowhere for months now. He forces himself to move and when he gets back in the car, he looks to Mike, wondering if he should say something, but he decides it's best to give the man time to digest everything.

Slouching back in his seat, Alex looks out the window with a vacant stare.

**xxxx**

Once in a great while, Mike will stay in a hotel that has effective blackout curtains. Neither moonlight nor streetlight seeps into the room. He can be staring up at the ceiling, realistically knowing that it's there, but all he sees is a black void. Often wonders if it ever comes to an end. He's not in that kind of room tonight. The room's illuminated just enough for him to make out the ceiling's texture, to see its structure, its limits.

He grimaces. Disgusting. Putrid. The last thing he said to Alex still lingers on the tip of his tongue, the rotten taste filling his mouth. The way he reacted takes him back to a promise he once made: to never be selfish, to never put his own feelings ahead of Alex's. And why would he make a promise like that if he wasn't going to keep it? He thought he'd learned his lesson the first time he walked away after Alex had confessed to something. He was just trying to be honest then, as he was trying to be earlier on that country road, and there Mike was again, repeating history. His actions undermining his feelings.

He's wanted Alex to be honest with him and when he finally is, he shuts the man down? Mike feels like crying. Such a familiar situation and yet, so foreign.

To believe what Alex has told him is frightening. He doesn't want to think his boss could be so unimaginably cruel, not to _him_. And why on earth would the man go through all the trouble to punish Alex just to turn around and make them a tag team? But, if what Alex says _is_ true, it would be a far worse prospect to know the man he loves has been suffering on a level that might even surpass his own. In a million years, in as many lifetimes, no matter his offenses, Mike would never wish that fate on Alex. Would trade places with the guy in a heartbeat if that were the case.

It's been well over an hour since Mike got into bed, perhaps even approaching two at this point and he's yet to hear Alex make a peep. The guy hasn't even had to run the shower, which is unusual considering his routine as of late. And it would be quite obvious if he did, with Mike being wide awake and with an air conditioner that's more modern. Kicks off more often, leaving the room heavy in silence.

Even though he already took a shower at the arena where they filmed the latest episode of Smackdown, Mike sits up contemplating taking another one. There's a curiosity in him that wants to feel what Alex felt when he would disappear into the bathroom in the middle of the night, but it's his promise that keeps him from doing so. He owes it to himself, and to Alex, to stay without reverting to his default setting, and give him a chance to explain. A calming breath and he's as ready as he's ever going to be. "I'm not going to hurt your heart."

Alex opens his eyes. "What?" It's a stupid question but does well to serve two purposes: it lets Mike know he's awake and more importantly, it's just enough to make sure he wasn't imagining Mike's voice. It's all he's been hoping for since he got back in the car, and even more so since he got into bed, lying awake for hours, wanting it all to be over so he can cross the ocean of distrust he created and climb into the opposite bed - the way it was always meant to be. He sees Mike's darkened cutout sitting on the edge of the island bed, the dim light from the window hitting his silhouette from behind. Too heavenly a sight. He'd be crushed to find out it was just a dream.

"Do you remember saying that to me?"

Alex sits up, relieved to know the moment is real. Reaching over, he switches on the lamp situated on the table between the two beds. Has to do this with the light on, has to be able to look at Mike, and have Mike look into his eyes and _know_ he hasn't been alone. "Of course I remember."

"I was stupid enough to think that you kissed my wrist for a reason. That every time you brought it up to your lips, you were reaffirming that promise you made, that you wouldn't hurt my heart."

"I was, every time."

"But that's all you've done. You fucking hurt my heart, Alex! You broke it. Over and over again. The things you said to me!"

"They weren't true. Not a single word. You have to know hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted. I was stuck, I didn't know what else to do."

"You talk to me! I begged you to talk to me. How many times did I fucking beg you? On my fucking knees!"

Alex wells up, he's seen that look in Mike's eyes before, heard that anguish in his voice before, too many times. "And every time I felt like I was losing you all over again. I know what you felt, I was feeling it, too."

"You think that makes me feel better? You think that makes everything okay?"

"Not even close. Nothing about this is okay."

"We were supposed to be a team, Alex. We could have figured it out together."

"Valentine's Day, you told me that everything would be alright. You told me! And then what happened? It made everything worse."

Mike's eyes widen, the implication outrageous. "So, this is _my_ fault?"

"No," Alex says, choking back his tears. "I'm saying he had an ax to grind, whatever the cost, and the last thing I wanted was for him to bring the blade down on your neck, like he brought it down on mine."

"You don't know that would've happened."

"But I do. Do you think I would have done any of this if I wasn't sure about that?"

"Even if you're right, it doesn't change the fact that you deceived me and decided everything on your own."

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"But it wasn't your choice to make! Don't you know what I would have done for you?"

"I know _exactly_ what you would have done!" Alex stares into Mike's eyes intensely, tears rippling, blurring his vision but he refuses to blink. "He was going to fire you."

Mike sighs sharply, a tear rushing down his cheek. "He'd never do that."

"But he did! Don't you remember? You think that was a coincidence?"

Scouring his memory, Mike pinpoints the incident Alex is referring to. He always thought that storyline was strange, but even so, it's no excuse. "Then I would've dealt with it," he says, "because I could've handled losing everything in my life as long as I still had you."

"You shouldn't have to lose everything because of me."

Mike huffs. Frustrated that Alex doesn't get it. "So, my feelings don't count then. It's whatever you think is best. You think Vince is gonna fire me and you decide the best course of action is sleeping with someone else?!"

"I never slept with her. I swear to you. I never would've let it get that far."

A weird mixture of relief and betrayal swirls inside Mike. "But you were fine letting me believe that you had?"

Alex frowns, swallows the lump in his throat. "A part of me hoped you wouldn't. And what's so backwards about the whole thing is that you holding on is the only thing that gave me the strength to push you away." Alex's chin quivers. "I just wanted you to know that it was okay to move on."

"Is it still okay?"

No longer able to look at Mike, Alex brings his hand to his face, covering his eyes as the tears break free. Each one rolling down his cheeks could easily represent one of his mistakes, one of his regrets, and there'd still be too many to shed.

"Look at me," Mike commands.

It goes against Alex's nature to be so exposed. Over the past six months he's taught himself not to let anyone in, but Mike is the only one who's ever been able to access that side of him; the only one _allowed_ to access that side of him. Alex feels himself starting to surrender - the man's ability to break through is proving stronger than ever. He wipes his face and looks up to the guy.

"Is it still okay?" Mike's tone is emphatic, demanding.

Alex pushes himself off the bed, falling to his knees, his cheek falling into Mike's lap. "I'm so sorry," he laments. "For everything. I'm so sorry."

The emotion, the sincerity, the way Alex clings to him, it's overwhelming. The tears fall of their own volition - Mike not having the strength nor the willpower to deny them their purpose. He rubs Alex's head, listening to him weep and then the broken man reaches up and places his trembling hands on top of Mike's, doesn't want him to ever let go. Not that Mike has any intention to.

When the tears run dry, Mike slinks off the side of the bed and sits next to Alex on the carpet - exhausted, drained. "I'm not giving you a pass," he says lethargically, his voice tired and raw. "There's a lot we have to work through. But I'm willing to if you are."

Alex leans against Mike's side, rests his head on his shoulder.

Mike's eyes drift shut. "I'm gonna be home all day Thursday so if you can find a flight between now and then, you can come over to my place and we can talk."

Alex nods. "I'll be there."


	30. The Catalyst

30. The Catalyst

Alex is used to airports. He's used to standing in lines, going through security, dealing with delays. He's used to crowds. But in the few weeks out of the year when it seems like the whole country is in transit, traveling by plane is something he'd much rather avoid. Because at their peak, the airports are jammed packed. The delays that drive him crazy on a normal day are multiplied both in number and in length due to freak snowstorms and a host of other complications. To describe it as a hassle would be an understatement.

In already having dealt with the chaos congested terminals have to offer at Thanksgiving, Alex was more than relieved to not have to worry about flying to Virginia to spend Christmas with his family. As luck would have it, the company taped Smackdown in Richmond that Tuesday. This meant all Alex would have to do is drive his rental car to his parents' house and then he wouldn't have to think about the bustle for five whole days - not until the following Monday when he'd have to leave for a live show in Chicago. But everything changed Tuesday night when Mike invited him over to his condo to spend a day together, just the two of them. Alex wasn't about to pass up such an opportunity and that meant busy airports were part of the deal.

These days, it's so rare for Alex to book his own flights. The company handles the vast majority of his travel arrangements, he just has to show up on time. But when he does plan his own trips, it's always months in advance so he never has any issues. Booking a flight four days before Christmas, however, presents quite the challenge. Not surprisingly, he's willing to settle for any seat on any airline and finally after a tedious search, he finds an availability.

His flight departs late Thursday morning. With the time difference and assuming everything goes according to plan, he should be able to leave the east coast around 11:00 and land on the Pacific coast around 3:30. After running a few necessary errands, he'll still have a decent amount of time with Mike. But even if Alex could only spend one hour with the guy, the effort would still be worth it.

**xxxx**

Alex is relieved when his plane pulls out to the runway exactly when it's supposed to. And before he knows it, he's well on his way to the City of Angels.

Over the past couple of days, Alex has been thinking a lot about a promise to Mike long ago, one he tried to forget about because it hurt to know he'd never be able to fulfill it, but he's been proven wrong. The promise: that he'd make sushi for Mike, and that's exactly what he's going to do. And better yet, a full meal. It's a way to show Mike how grateful he is for being given this opportunity, to show him he's serious and that his feelings are genuine. Besides, the guy has to eat anyway and going out is impersonal and distracting. Ordering in is lazy and predictable. But taking the time to prepare a homemade dinner for someone is thoughtful, not to mention the fact that it's a rarity in Mike's life that Alex knows he'll appreciate.

Time to start planning the perfect meal.

Brainstorming manages to be more difficult a task than Alex had expected. Maybe it's because he hasn't been in the kitchen in so long, maybe because he wants to make everything perfect, but eventually he comes to the realization that there's no such thing as the perfect meal, especially when it comes to Mike and his easy-to-please palate. No wonder in all the months they were together, he never imagined an actual menu.

Besides, it was never going to be about the food anyway. Not really. When all the aesthetics are stripped away, it'll be about his interaction with Mike more than anything else. It'll be in all the little things. From the way Mike's hand accidentally brushes past Alex's as he reaches for some ingredient sending sparks throughout their bodies, to the way Alex smiles at Mike and Mike will smile because in that moment he'll remember feeling the way he did before everything got fucked up. He'll feel normal and extraordinary at the same time, in the way only Alex can make him feel. The food proving to be merely the catalyst in making all the little moments possible; all the little moments that add up to something so much more.

The long flight gives Alex time to think about all these things and he finds himself getting nervous. He hadn't realized it before, not consciously, but this trip isn't about fulfilling old promises or proving himself to Mike. It's about being given a second chance, one that he never thought he'd have.

**xxxx**

Mike hears a knock at his door. He already knew Alex was on his way up, having received a text from the guy a few minutes earlier, but knowing he's on the other side of his door forces a smile to stretch from ear to ear. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Runs his hands over his shirt, down to his thighs. He didn't want to come across as trying too hard or conversely, looking like a bum – which actually would've required more effort on his part. Happy medium: he went the casual route. Keeping it simple and comfortable, he wears a long sleeved shirt; the thin, white fabric hanging off him, accentuating his strong arms without making him look bulky and awkward. He's paired that with dark washed denim and sneakers - the outfit very reminiscent of what he wore during their first episode of NXT, though the similarity manages to escape him. When he opens the door, he's relieved when he sees Alex is dressed casually, too. Just jeans, sneakers, a hoodie and a hat, and Mike still can't get over how good-looking this man is. That smile, those dimples. Irresistible. He discreetly catches his breath as he feels himself being pulled into deep blue eyes.

"Hey," Mike says and he's completely unaware of how happy he looks, but he feels like his soul is soaring. It's a sense of liberation, freedom. It's the first time he's let his guard down in Alex's presence since they've been put back together and he realizes just how stifling it was to have to hold it all in, even for only a few days.

"Hi."

The mood of Mike's whole life just seems to brighten when Alex is near him, especially now that there are no secrets between them, and it feels so much like old times, he can hardly believe it. "Oh, that's rude of me. Here," he says reaching out to unload some of the burden of heavy groceries, not that Alex isn't perfectly capable of bringing them to the kitchen. Mike just wants to be helpful. "And here I was thinking we were just gonna order pizza and watch the game," he chuckles.

Alex laughs a bit louder than he intended, like he had been holding his breath. "We can still watch the game," he assures, excitement in his voice.

As Alex walks into Mike's condo, he looks around. He's visited once before, but that was shortly after he and Mike met. Regretfully, he didn't take the time out to appreciate it the way he should have. This time, he takes in the scope of it. Very open, yet the atmosphere is instantly warm and inviting. He can tell Mike takes pride in his home, like he does everything else in his life. Passes by a staircase constructed out of the same dark, rich hardwood he walks on. He can see into a large living space that's perfect for all forms of entertainment – from playing video games or watching sports and movies, to hosting small dinner parties for friends or colleagues. Alex can see imprints of all these events as if he's attended them himself.

Mike leads Alex into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the condo, it's impressive, but doesn't try to be pretentious in the least. Alex can see himself cooking Mike meals in this kitchen for the rest of their lives and it's not long before his sleeves are pushed up and he's busy getting started with the first one.

While planning the evening, Alex realized almost immediately that he wanted the cooking process to be interactive. He wanted to include Mike, didn't want to waste one second with the guy. And his plan works because a football game Mike had recorded on Monday night is on in the living room, the enormous screen visible from the kitchen, but Mike's so involved with helping Alex that it fades into the background. He hardly notices it's on, even when his team scores a touchdown.

Mike is taken aback when he empties the contents of the grocery bags. He stares at his countertop, not the granite surface, but what's displayed on it. Among the items are the ingredients for sushi. He can't believe Alex remembered what they talked about that night in the hotel. On second thought, yes he can. He doesn't mean to lose focus as Alex explains the first step, but as he stares at his teacher, he can't help thinking how amazing his world would be if this was the kind of life they had together. He loves wrestling and everything that goes along with the job, but being with Alex in this way, in a way most people take for granted, is a kind of normalcy he's been missing for a very long time.

Alex moves on to the main dish and Mike is worried that he wandered off into his thoughts so long that he must have missed something. "I thought we were making sushi."

The crooked smile Mike loves so much appears on Alex's face. "Well, I told you, the rice has to soak for half an hour. While that's doing its thing, we're gonna prepare the actual dinner. Then we'll get back to the sushi."

Mike scrunches his faux hawk. "Oh," he says, trying not to blush and failing miserably.

Alex explains what they're going to be working on next, Mike sure to pay attention this time. He tells Mike that they'll be making halibut topped with mango salsa and plated on a bed of mixed greens. Secretly hopes it's not too lame, not that he ever alludes to the fact, but knowing how health conscious the guy tries to be, he's sure his worries sprout from nerves. As he's speaking, his gaze is drawn to Mike's mouth, his eyes following Mike's tongue as he drags it across his lips, wetting them. He's no expert on body language, but he knows Mike well enough to know that he must be doing something right.

Alex seasons the fish and pops it into the oven and now it's time to prepare the salsa.

He places an avocado in front of himself and hands Mike a mango to dice up and asks him to also cut some of it into strips for the sushi.

"That's a nice way to tie everything together."

"It was also less stuff I had to buy," Alex chortles, winking at Mike.

"How efficient of you."

Mike gets to work on the mango, its juices spilling over the cutting board and he can hardly deny the urge to sample it. He brings a small chunk up to his mouth and hums delightfully as the sweet juices roll over his tongue. "You have to try this."

"I picked a good one?"

"Absolutely." Mike gathers up a slippery slice and turns to Alex, bringing it inches from his mouth. Wants him to lean in for a taste, and so he does. He sinks his teeth in just shy of Mike's fingers, his lips grazing Mike's skin and it's the closest thing to a kiss either have shared in forever. The tasty morsel melts in Alex's mouth, his eyes fluttering with satisfaction and the fruit might as well be an aphrodisiac at this point. Although, Alex isn't entirely convinced it's the fruit's doing.

Mike enjoys the effect the mango has on Alex. He's especially tempted to move in and run his tongue over Alex's chin, to lap up the juices that he doesn't realize are there…or maybe is pretending aren't there. But he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't jump into things too quickly. They still have a lot to work through, and he realizes it's unfair to tease the man the way he just did, but it's not like it was planned. It is, however, comforting to know that after everything, Alex _does_ still respond to him in a certain way and isn't afraid to show it. Settling for a compromise, Mike reaches out and swipes his thumb across Alex's sticky chin.

"You and food." Alex sighs, _hard_, thinking back to the messy barbeque ribs they once shared.

Mike sucks the juices from his thumb, his mouth contorting in the way it does when he's trying to suppress a smile, but it never works. He eats the remaining section of the fruit slice Alex left behind and then licks his fingers clean. Savors the slightly erotic sense of pleasure he gleans from putting his lips to the same spot on his skin that Alex's lips had just touched.

The pair finish preparing the salsa and switch gears back to the sushi. Alex gives Mike the option between salmon and fresh crabmeat, along with avocado, mango, cucumber and cream cheese, and Mike has fun assembling his choices. Alex then demonstrates how to roll the sushi with the bamboo mat and Mike catches on quickly, creating the perfect bite-sized appetizer.

After they each delight in their creations, Alex asks Mike to sit at the table because he wants to dish up the halibut with the salsa they made and bring it out to him. Mike complies. A few minutes later, Alex serves Mike and the colors on the plates are vibrant. The expression on Mike's face - one of awe.

"We've yet to taste it," Alex warns. After all, it's been a while since he's actually been in the kitchen. After having spent the better part of two years relying on restaurants, hotel lobbies and catering services for all of his dining needs, there's still a possibility that he overcooked the fish.

"It looks amazing," Mike says, showing his support as well as the faith he has in his friend's abilities.

And it _is_ amazing, from the delicious food down to the conversation. The two completely forget why they decided to meet and instead they talk about the future of their tag team and what they're looking forward to most. They talk about sports and how their favorite teams are doing. They talk about Mike's plans for Christmas, how he has a flight to Cleveland the next evening and how Alex will go back to Virginia to spend the holiday with his parents and his brother. Interwoven throughout the exchange are a bunch of stories Mike had been holding onto for the last handful of months – the funny ones; the ones he would have told to Alex late at night or during the next day's drive to a new city. Was determined to wait, as long as he had to, to share them with the guy in person, mostly so he'd get to hear his laugh, but also because they were always meant to be appreciated rather than forever forgotten in an unresponsive voicemail wasteland. And then there are moments where neither speaks at all and it's just as perfect. The whole evening turned into a proper date.

Their first date.

"I'm really happy you liked it," Alex says. "Thank you for helping me."

"Thank you for coming over."

Alex takes a deep, gratifying breath. "Would you like to watch the game now?"

Mike nods enthusiastically, as if he's being offered a decadent dessert, and to him, it basically is (minus the calories). Sitting next to Alex and watching football - there's a short list of what he deems to be better than that.

Mike enjoys the game and more than that, he enjoys the way Alex stares at him from time to time. It reminds him of all their long car drives. He pretends not to notice, but when Alex looks away, he'll glance at the guy; the two playing a flirtatious game of their own.

It's in Mike's nature to be enthusiastic, especially when it comes to sports. The only person he's ever met that outshines him in that department is Alex but when the guy stops turning to look at him - his eyes glued to the television instead - Mike realizes there's no reaction to the plays on Alex's part. He just sits there - calm and quiet.

He looks across the couch to his friend, watches as Alex's gaze falls slowly to the floor - he's not even paying attention to the game. Everything was going so great, so what happened?

The dramatic change in the atmosphere causes Mike to flash back to the dreaded night in the hotel when Alex broke up with him. It's that same shift in mood. And it's the same heaviness he felt when he'd hear Alex stifling back his tears in the middle of the night. And then it hits him that Alex must be reeling again and he'll do everything in his power to keep him from being sucked back into that darkness.

"Alex?"

The concern in Mike's voice triggers something in the sullen man. He shuts his eyes tight and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to stop himself from crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Mike asks cautiously and Alex can only shake his head. "No," Mike says moving to the other side of the couch. "No baby, don't do that." He sits in Alex's lap, straddling him, a move in which Alex didn't expect and Mike had no intention of making, it just happened - it was this need to look the man in the eye. He grabs either side of Alex's face and Alex lets his hand fall to the couch. He still doesn't open his eyes.

"It's okay." Mike wipes away the moisture that's seeping from Alex's eyes. "You don't have to hold onto that shit anymore."

Alex reaches up and holds onto Mike's wrists. "It's not that," he says softly, looking up to Mike, his eyes shining bright. "I'm just really happy."

Mike's worry is quickly replaced with relief and happiness of his own, a happiness he decides is best expressed with a smothering of smacking kisses to Alex's lips.

Alex could tell by the way Mike had been looking at him, from the moment he greeted him at the door. He picked up on every flirtation, no matter how subtle or accidental. The whole night had been moving towards this moment, and Alex would sooner die than let it pass him by. He straightens his back, reaching up to Mike for more.

Mike drapes his arms over Alex's shoulders, fingering his shirt upwards and removing it as if it's the most natural thing in the world for him to do at a time like this. The touch of his bare skin is just how he remembered, and better.

Alex pulls Mike's shirt off and leans back against the couch, his gaze falling to Mike's chest. He runs his hands over Mike's perfectly sculpted pectoral muscles, those rigid, pink nipples; touching him as if he's discovering him all over again. He leans in and kisses Mike's neck and when he reaches for a proper kiss, Mike doesn't reciprocate. Alex slouches back against the couch and locks onto Mike's steady eyes, crinkles his brow just enough to convey his confusion.

Mike brushes his fingertips over Alex's mouth, internally contemplating his next move and then without a word, he climbs off. Standing to his feet, he extends a hand. It's Alex's turn to contemplate but there's no need. Hand in hand, Mike guides Alex towards the staircase.

Ever since Alex stepped out of that hotel room all those months ago, he's felt like he's been making his way through life half alive, but with every step he ascends, he can feel everything he left behind rushing back, with Mike leading the way. Leading him to his room, leading him to his bed, leading him back to his future.

Mike turns around to face Alex, with those eyes and that skin; that unwavering energy cloaking them like a force field. For as long as he's known him, Alex has never seen Mike's room and even now his eyes are too selfish to pay any mind to anything other than the man in front of him. Tunnel vision. Mike brings the back of Alex's hand up to his lips and kisses it tenderly. There's no mistaking why he's brought him up to his bedroom.

Each night when Alex would lie down to go to sleep, some nights only a few rooms away from Mike, he'd think back to that first night they made love. It was a perfect night. It was that moment in a hurricane when the chaos swirling around stops. There's no wind, there's no rain; the sun is shining so bright and there's this window of false security before the backend of the storm hits with all its might. For that one night, they were freed from the restraints that held them back, untainted by what the future had in store for them. Sadly, with each night that followed, the memory became fainter, more distant.

He wore out the memory like a favorite shirt. The threads of each detail tattered and frayed from overuse. The more he accessed the memory, the more his mind began to blur certain details and add extra details to make up for the ones that slipped away. As much as he tried, there was no way to stop that night from fading away and the notion that he couldn't hold onto Mike - not even in his memory - was unbearable for Alex.

But now, as he sits in the center of Mike's bed, grasping the thick thighs of the naked man kneeling before him, Alex is given the gift of a new memory. His hands travel up to Mike's hips as he leans in and places soft kisses across his lover's warm belly. He's always preferred how Mike's abs still have a little meat on them, his body muscular but not overly defined; Alex's lips allowed to melt into creamy, inviting flesh. He trails kisses up Mike's stomach and to his chest; explores Mike's backside with his fingers, feeling his curves, forcing the guy closer as he sucks on one of his nipples so Mike can _feel_ it, flicking his tongue against the hardness of it before he turns his attention to the other. He hums in much the same way Mike did with the mango, expressing his satisfaction freely, sending vibrations from his mouth right through Mike and Mike gasps as Alex's teeth latch onto him. He grabs Alex, bringing him even closer to his body, flesh to flesh, running his fingers through his hair.

The pad of Mike's index finger lightly grazes the scar on the back of Alex's head. He's always regretted not being with Alex the day it happened. The raised mark a constant reminder of his absence and touching it now reminds him of all the other days he missed out on with the man. But he can't dwell on that, not right now.

The friction he feels when he finally connects with Alex is all too real, his body learning to adapt to the intimate contact all over again. He digs his fingertips into Alex's shoulder blades, drawing the man as close as he can. Alex wraps his arms around Mike tightly, his face finding a home in the crook of his lover's neck as they melt into one another. Mike's breaths are deep and heavy, ragged even; his voice revealing itself in every exhale. But attached to the physical discomfort he's currently adjusting to, lies a sea of great relief. A sea he willingly submits himself to; immersed by the baptism of rolling waves.

Mike pauses, his body motionless, unlike his partner's. He can feel Alex trembling, wonders if he's moved too fast. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Never," Alex breathes, engaging Mike in a kiss that expends every ounce of passion he has. Kisses his cheek, his neck, his collarbone and then settles there, holding Mike in his arms as the man starts to move.

He doesn't mean to be so passive in his participation, but he's consumed. His whole body weeps. The energy he exerted by pushing Mike away day after day is still taking its toll and not only on his body, but also on his mind. It's the emotion he feels. It far and away exceeds the emotion he experienced the first time he was with Mike and reaching that level of intimacy is something he never thought would be possible again. But it's happening. Oh, God, is it happening.

It's on par with a great awakening; like he's been found again. It parallels Mike's description of what their first time together felt like and he believes that must be what's happening to him now - that Mike has stripped him to his core and is rebuilding him into the man he once was. A man he remembers being, a man he can recognize again.

There's no denying that the physical gratification he's experiencing is exponentially wondrous, but it's more than that. Just as dinner was about more than the food, being with Mike now is more than just sex. It transcends the act. It's knowing in this moment that it's possible for Mike to forgive him for every mistake he made, for every disgusting thing he did and said. He can finally breathe again because of it. And he breathes in Mike's essence so deeply. It permeates like oxygen to the bloodstream, pumping through his veins. It's invigorating, intoxicating. A drug tailored specifically for him. No one else can concoct such a cocktail. It's his. It belongs to him.

Mike belongs to him.

Strong hips rock against him, pivoting with confidence, familiarity, precision. Pulling him in, spitting him out, devouring him again and again. Mike moves slowly, deliberately. Every flex of his muscles has purpose and not a single motion is wasted; every twitch, every touch trying to make up for all the time lost. It's an impossible feat, but he's compelled to try. Alex clutches Mike tightly, crying out as he unravels in his lover's embrace.

Mike cradles the tired man, hugging him completely - with his arms and with his legs. He closes his eyes as he rests his cheek against Alex's forehead. "You're shivering," he whispers, becoming acutely aware of how fragile it all is; so delicate, like it could crumble at any second.

"I love you," Alex professes softly, his voice aching with honesty. "Please tell me you know that."

Mike's chin quivers uncontrollably. "I've always known that," he says, trying to keep his own emotions in check, but it's never been something he can easily do when he's with Alex. He can't help but be affected. Tears flood his eyes - at hearing those words for the first time, but also because of the pain that accompanied them. He knows what it feels like to have to suppress his feelings for Alex and that was for about a week at best, whereas Alex played the role for months on end and now Mike fears that the mental and emotional anguish Alex must have battled has left a permanent scar, whether the guy knows it or not. He can't see it or feel it like he can with the one on the back of Alex's head, but it's there. And it's letting itself be known in the desperate way Alex clings to him.

Mike blinks back the surge of tears threatening to overtake him. "I don't know how you did it," he whispers, the formation of the words on his lips leaving kisses to the plane of Alex's shoulder. "I don't think I could ever be that strong."

Alex nudges into his lover, his stream of tears adding to the wetness of Mike's chest. "I wasn't strong," he counters with broken voice. "Strong would have been fighting to be with you. I should have told you the truth."

"You were trying to protect me."

"I hate myself for what I did and the way I treated you. I- I hurt you."

Mike grimaces as he recalls the pain he felt every time he tried to talk to Alex, and the emptiness he felt when Alex would walk away. He thinks of all the nights he couldn't sleep and all the nights he cried himself to sleep.

"But you never gave up on me," Alex adds. "Not even when I gave you every reason to."

Mike moves his hands to Alex's face, seeking his attention and he's met with the puffy eyes he's come to know so well over the last couple of weeks. He swipes both of his thumbs over warm cheeks, wiping away the sheet of moisture coating his face. "And I never will."

Alex is struck with another wave of emotion, his body still trying to rid itself of all the pent up guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry," he cries, feeling undeserving of Mike's love and affection, and even less deserving of any forgiveness he has to offer. He buries his face into Mike again and it's enough to make Mike want to break down, too.

"We're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

**xxxx**

Alex opens his eyes. He remembers falling asleep in Mike's arms but sometime in the night, Mike must have rolled over because he's no longer there. Alex turns towards the center of the bed in a panic and for a fraction of a second he's frightened that he won't see Mike. But the fear quickly subsides when his sights fall on the man. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Reaching out, he rubs his hand over Mike's shoulder, wanting to make sure he's really there - even though he can see him, he needs to feel him. Besides, his skin is so warm and smooth, it was begging to be touched…and held. Not being able to dismiss the inclination, he inches towards his boyfriend, kisses the round of his shoulder as he molds his own body against him.

This time, there's no complimentary breakfast to fetch, there's no _interloping oracle_ in the form of John Cena warning of retaliation looming on the horizon, there's nothing that could ruin this moment and it's almost enough to make up for the mistake of leaving Mike's bed last April. He breathes in the orgasmic scent of Mike's hair and after all these months of separation it's as potent as ever; swears he'll never tire of it. If this turned out to be the last thing he ever did, it would be the _best_ thing he ever did.

Mike moves under Alex's weight, moans just a little and Alex realizes he had fallen asleep again, which isn't surprising.

"I missed these arms," Mike breathes, running his hand down the one wrapped around him.

Alex kisses Mike behind the ear and then transfers his affections to his neck and Mike is all too willing to oblige, opening up his jugular to a hungry mouth.

Mike reaches back to hold Alex's head, runs his fingers through his soft hair and down to his prickly cheek. "Good morning," he says, his voice fading in and out and just by his inflection, Alex can tell Mike is smiling.

"It is good." Alex turns into Mike's wrist, kisses the tender flesh he's always held claim over. "How'd you sleep?"

"Perfect," Mike coos, feels Alex nuzzle into him. "I don't think I've slept straight through the night since…"

Alex already knows how the sentence ends, there's no need to finish it and he kisses Mike's head as a sign of appreciation for not doing so.

"What about you?" Mike turns around to face his boyfriend. "How do you feel?" He caresses Alex's cheek, his hand rising slightly as the corner of his mouth curls up.

"Like I've been brought back to life."

Mike smiles lazily. "I told myself to go slow with you."

"Oh, you definitely went slow."

Mike giggles and nudges Alex in the shoulder. "You know what I mean."

"I know," Alex nods, his smile a reflection of Mike's. "What made you change your mind?"

Mike trails his hand down to Alex's chest and rests it on the spot above his heart. "I could tell that you needed me as much as I needed you." He rolls Alex onto his back and kisses him, _really_ takes his time kissing him until he feels himself becoming overly greedy. "This is real, isn't it?"

It crushes Alex to see the same worried, helpless look in Mike's eyes that he had seen countless times when the guy would beg him for the truth. That look tells him he still has a long road ahead of him in proving his loyalty and commitment, so the guy can trust him again without having to ask if this is real.

Alex sits up against the headboard and Mike follows as if they are one person - when Alex moves, Mike moves. He positions his body right next to Alex, never once breaking eye contact.

"Listen to me," Alex stresses, holding Mike's face in his hands. "This has _always_ been real. Not for one second did I not want to be with you and I'm always going to feel guilty for making you ever doubt that." Alex searches Mike's eyes to make sure this truth is resonating. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Just then he hears Mike's stomach start to rumble and it makes him smile. "Starting with breakfast."

Mike laughs and pulls Alex back down into the bed. "I can think of another way you can make it up to me."

Alex raises an eyebrow. "Anything," he says, running his hands over Mike's back and down into his underwear.

"Spend Christmas with me."

Alex lets out an airy laugh.

"Why's that funny?"

"It's just…when I told my mom I was coming out here to see you, she didn't hesitate in telling me that I wasn't gonna come back."

Mike raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Your mom knows about us?"

"Believe me, it came as a surprise for me, too. I didn't even have to tell them."

"Them?"

"Apparently my dad knew, even before my mom."

Mike chuckles to himself, last Thanksgiving finally making sense. Kevin Sr.'s behavior around him, what he said as he was leaving for the airport and even when he went to the radio station to co-host for an hour. He thought it was a bit peculiar that the guy gave him a big hug. Figured hugging just ran in the family, but now he knows the man was merely treating him _like_ he was family.

"I'll tell you all about it, but first, I'm gonna get us somethin' to eat." He pecks Mike on the lips and rolls to the edge of the bed but Mike is quick to grab hold of his wrist and pull him back in his direction.

"So you'll stay?"

Alex takes a beat and loses himself in the sparkling, optimistic eyes staring up at him. Remarkably, they seem _bluer_ if that's even possible. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he answers with a kiss and he swears if Mike doesn't break away, he'll forget all about breakfast and redirect his appetite elsewhere.

In the midst of what could possibly be described as the most delicious kiss two people have ever shared, something manages to do the impossible - Alex's attention is drawn away. "What was that?"

Mike furrows his brow as if he's replaying the faint noise over in his head. "I think it was my phone."

"Oh. Where is it? I'll get it for you."

Mike tells Alex that it must still be in the pocket of his jeans and Alex fetches it. Jumps back into bed and watches Mike adjust his eyes to the small print on the bright screen. "It's a text from our favorite puppet master."

Alex feels the tiniest twinge in the pit of his stomach as he recalls the fateful text he had received when Vince wanted to send him back for repackaging. "What does it say?"

"It just says to call him, that he has something important to tell me." Mike clears his throat. "How's my voice sound?"

"Sexy."

Mike reaches over and runs his hand down Alex's face as if to say how silly he is but Alex grabs it and starts sucking and gnawing on Mike's fingers, thus proving his point entirely. "Hey," Mike chuckles, "I have to be serious. Let me just call him real quick and get this over with."

Alex huffs dramatically, deliberately immature. "Fine…Can I listen?"

Mike looks Alex over with squinty eyes, teasing him. "You can't make a peep."

Swiping his finger and thumb across his lips, Alex pretends to seal them and then he flicks his wrist, throwing away the invisible key.

Mike winks at his adorable boyfriend and Alex scoots in close and rests his cheek against a solid shoulder. Mike dials the number Vince sent the text from and then puts the call on speakerphone so Alex can hear the conversation.

Vince answers and after a brief greeting he says, "Be sure to pass this along to Riley."

Mike and Alex immediately glance to one another with curiosity. "Sure thing," Mike answers.

"So, we encountered a complication with Monday's show and I wanted to get the changes to you personally so there won't be any confusion. The gist is that you and Riley will be part of an impromptu title match which will result in the two of you becoming the next tag team champions."

Wide-eyed, Mike darts his attention to Alex and discovers he's in a similar state of shock.


	31. A Very Marry Christmas

31. A Very Marry Christmas

Mike's attention is drawn to Alex in an instant. His boyfriend's walking down the stairs wearing a shirt he must have gotten out of Mike's closet. In fact, Mike knows that's where he got it from - it clings to him, half a size too small. It's an older design from his character's apparel line, one of the more popular ones he used to wear out to the ring. It's black with a huge red and white name tag on the front with the greeting: _Hello, I'm Awesome!_ And for Mike, those words couldn't be truer than they are in this moment. "You look exceptionally handsome."

Realizing he's starting to blush, Alex looks down to his chest. "Must be the shirt."

It could never just be the shirt and Mike assures Alex of this sentiment with a kiss. Slow, indulgent. His whimpers of satisfaction move Alex to hold him closer, raising him to his toes. They melt into a hug and Mike breathes in deeply. "You smell so good."

"I smell like you."

"You were supposed to wait for me," Mike reminds with random kisses to Alex's neck and cheek and scruffy jaw line. "But I guess I could always give you a reason to need another shower."

"Say the word and that's all the reason I need."

Mike wraps his arms around his boyfriend, wanting to feel his strong embrace again. "Thank you," he says.

"For what?"

"For being you. For inspiring me and giving me a kind of confidence I never thought I'd have. For believing in me and giving me the strength to do things that seemed made for someone else."

Alex pulls back and places his hand to the center of Mike's chest. "It's all right here. Inside you."

Mike looks into Alex's loving eyes, takes a couple deep breaths as he takes in such a perfect moment. "I told my mom about us."

A smile grazes Alex's lips. "That's what you've been doing?"

Mike nods. "She called wanting to make sure I wasn't alone today. I never wanted to tell her over the phone but it felt like the right time, y'know? So, I told her that you went out and bought a tree yesterday and we decorated it together. And basically, I came out with it and said that we weren't just friends."

"How'd she take it?"

"Actually…She told me something about you that I didn't know."

"Uh oh."

Mike giggles. "No, no. Nothing bad. She told me that she saw you at the hospital after my match at Wrestlemania. She said she heard someone mention my name out in the hall, demanding to know what room I was in and that's when she saw you making quite the scene. She said she remembered thinking how distraught you looked, more worried than any friend would be."

Alex's tongue massages the inside of his cheek. "I was that obvious, huh?" He rolls his eyes - charmingly, embarrassed. "So, _your_ mom, _my_ folks, they all knew?"

Mike smiles, enjoys seeing this side of Alex, a side no one else gets to see. "She wanted me to tell you she felt bad because she was really tired that night and didn't know it was you until you were in the elevator, otherwise she would've vouched for you. She also said she could tell that I was smiling through the phone when I was talking about you and that anyone who could make me that happy, and care so much about me, is someone I should hold onto."

"Smart lady."

"Y'know, I've gone over a million different scenarios in my head and in all of them I always end up having to explain myself or defend us to her. And now I don't even know why I ever thought that. Prepare yourself though 'cause she said she wants to meet you again because the first time didn't count."

Alex nods, grabbing Mike's face in his hands. Brings him in, their foreheads touching. "I'm so proud of you."

"I want to be this person all the time. The person you see when you look at me."

"But don't you know? You've always been this person. And you deserve so much. At the very least, I wish I could have gotten you a present, something to show you how incredible you are." Alex thinks back to the present he gave Mike last year for Christmas and how he didn't have anything to unwrap and it makes him sad that he has nothing tangible this year either. "Something you could get excited about unwrapping and keep forever."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure I could unwrap you out of these ridiculously unnecessary clothes." Mike tugs on Alex's snug shirt which is really _his_ shirt. He leans in and offers a playful kiss, feels his boyfriend try to contain his laughter against his lips and that only makes him want to draw the kiss out longer.

Mike kisses Alex's cheek and then turns around, walks towards the Christmas tree, admiring the multi-colored lights and the reflection from the fire bouncing off the silver tinsel. It's magical. "I know what you mean though because I wish I could've gotten you something too," he admits, sitting on the floor in front of the tree, Alex doing the same.

"Three whole days with you all to myself, and then tomorrow night we're gonna be champions…_together_, that's a pretty damn good Christmas gift if you ask me." Alex is unable to deny his smile in just thinking about what lies ahead for their careers. "But that's just a bonus, y'know. Being able to be here with you, that's my gift. That's all the gift I need. Looking at you, being able to touch you again…" Alex reaches out and holds Mike's hand and Mike leans in to kiss him once more. Alex smiles because that's exactly what he was going to say next. "Being able to kiss you…" He smiles even more now that he's said it and then it fades away, replaced with a tender vulnerability instead. The man starts to breathe heavily, his nerves becoming noticeable. "Your forgiveness, it's more than I deserve."

Mike releases a quivering breath, leans in and caresses Alex's face and Alex turns into Mike's wrist and presses his lips against him. He can feel Mike's pulse racing and knowing that the guy is affected in the same way he is, brings Alex great comfort and immeasurable courage. "See this?" he asks, looking down to his chest and pinching the fabric between his fingers. "I remember the first time I wore it. Not this one obviously, but one just like it."

Mike smiles because he remembers it, too. Since the beginning, he's always loved the way Alex looks in his shirts.

"I was so proud, and honored, to be out there fighting for you and fighting with you. Come hell or high water, I was gonna do everything I could to make sure you won and if for some reason I couldn't, I'd help you up. And yeah," Alex acknowledges with a playful roll of his eyes, "unfortunately, there were times we'd both be on the ground, but we were down there together. And I know all that went with the territory. It was why I was there, it was my job, but that's exactly how I feel about _you_. I'm on _your_ team. I'm on your side, I'm by your side. I always have been..." Alex holds that thought for a moment and then the sparkles in his eyes fade and he lowers his gaze slightly off center. "I know now that I just went about it the wrong way. I've felt what it was like _with_ you and what it's like _without_ you. And life without you isn't much of a life at all. I can't even hope for mediocre without you…It's nothing."

Mike sighs as he brings his hand up and caresses Alex cheek momentarily, once again reminded of what _his_ life was like without him in it.

"I know you forgive me because that's the kind of person you are, but I know I haven't earned it yet and I can't pretend like I have." Alex looks up to Mike, already certain of his next words. "I don't have a box with a fancy bow with something inside that you can hold onto, but what I do have is a promise. A promise that every day I'm gonna do all that I can to be worthy of your forgiveness and worthy of every moment you choose to spend with me because each and every one of them is a gift. I promise I won't take a single one for granted. Not ever again."

Mike exhales and reaches out to caress Alex's cheek with his thumb again. "Baby, I know," he says through trembling breath.

Alex grabs Mike's hand and holds it between his own. "I'm with you, whatever curve ball life wants to throw at us. I support you in anything you do, the decisions you make and I promise you, I'll never let anyone or anything ever come before you, not even myself. It's always going to be you. Win or lose, I'm never taking off this shirt."

"Alex, careful," Mike warns with a nervous giggle, finds it hard to catch his breath. "Sports analogies aside, those sound an awful lot like…" He pauses when he notices that Alex isn't even trying to back away from what he just said and his face drops at the realization. "Vows," he tries to whisper but his throat constricts involuntarily.

Alex rubs Mike's hand between his own. "I can't give you what I want to give you because it already belongs to you. _I_ belong to you. My heart, this body, my mind, my whole soul. My past, my future. Every breath, every heartbeat, every single second. It's all yours. I'm yours," he professes. "I've always been yours, but I wanted to make sure, in no uncertain terms, that you know it."

Mike doesn't want to cry, even if it's a good kind of crying. By this point, he's cried enough tears to last a lifetime. He stifles the urge and sniffles louder than he means to. Laughs breathlessly. "Is this part of your _making it up to me_ plan?"

"No." Alex shakes his head, his sincere demeanor unwavering. "It's part of my _loving you forever_ plan."

And with that, Mike's _not crying_ plan crumbles like something that fucking crumbles. He pushes his weight to his knees, Alex doing the same and their lips couldn't meet fast enough; a passionate kiss fueling the beginning of an equally passionate night of lovemaking.


	32. The Moth

32. The Moth

It's been three days since Mike and Alex found out they're going to be the next tag team champions and despite the tremendous popularity of the current title holders, they're still as ecstatic as can be. Though their victory will surely be a great upset, causing an outcry from the audience, Mike wouldn't have it any other way – he revels in the way people love to hate him.

As the pair leave their private dressing room, Mike follows close behind Alex, like a moth to a flame. "God, you're sexy," he gushes, stumbling on the guy's heels as he reaches out to grab his ass, those tight trunks accentuating his curves and doing him no favors in this situation.

"Stop that," Alex whispers, turning to face Mike as he swipes his hands away.

"I can't help it," Mike growls as they continue to walk entirely too close. "I can't keep my hands off you." Mike dares to touch Alex again. It doesn't matter where, just as long as he can feel him.

"Well, you're gonna have to." Alex blushes, swatting at Mike's frisky hands, but it's hard for Mike to take his boyfriend's warning seriously when it's attached to such an irresistibly charming smile. Alex tries to act natural as he glances around, wants to make sure no one sees them.

"That's one thing I miss about fighting you. I got to touch you wherever I wanted to in the ring and no one could say anything about it."

"Now we have a bed for that," Alex winks. Mike grabs hold of Alex's hand with both of his own but Alex is quick to pull away. "Mike!" he breathes, shocked that his boyfriend is willing to be so obvious, and out in the open where anyone could round the corner and catch them red-handed.

Mike grabs Alex again and pulls him into a darkened storage closet where his hands are finally allowed to roam freely. His mouth is drawn to Alex in an instant, this undeniable magnetic energy forcing them together without discretion and his stamina is all too impressive, especially after the way they spent the morning and the previous night. And the night before. And the two nights before that.

Alex surrenders to Mike's insatiable appetite. Of course he surrenders. Their tongues crash into each other as they indulge their urges in a familiar carnal dance.

"Fuck me," Mike begs, clawing at Alex's trunks.

Alex whips Mike around, switching positions with him - Mike's back now against the wall. A moan of satisfaction emanates from Mike as Alex latches onto him with his teeth. Alex breaks away with a loud smack of their lips as he spins Mike around to face the wall, his cheek smashing against the cool concrete. Alex shoves his hands down into Mike's trunks, clutching his backside in his fists, lifting him to his toes. The moment is reminiscent of how they were after they first started having sex. Rushing to their dressing room as fast as they could and when the urge was too great, they'd duck into a hidden corner where Alex would meet Mike's every whim and desire and he so badly wants to do that now, but he detects voices in the hall and suddenly remembers that they left the privacy of their dressing room for a reason.

His forehead falls to Mike's shoulder, releasing his grip, his hands moving to Mike's stomach to hold him there.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Our match."

Mike groans with discontent. "You're such a tease." He can feel Alex's breath heavy on his neck and a few seconds later, he turns back around to his boyfriend, dramatically jutting his bottom lip forward.

"What's that look for?"

"Suck me?"

Alex can't help but laugh, he certainly didn't expect Mike to say what he just did. Becoming serious again, he leans in and flicks his tongue across Mike's lips. If Mike's going to call him a tease, then he has no problem playing the part. "We have a match to get out to, so you better stop thinking about how I'm gonna give you the most elaborate blow job of your life when we get back to the hotel."

The erotically charged statement and the way Alex's hot breath feels against his lips causes Mike to tremble.

"Just put it right out of your mind."

For all Mike's talents, he's never been able to actively resist Alex. The idea, the direct promise, turning him on even more and he curses the man for being so damned sexy. But that's for later and he must compartmentalize his feelings because right now, he has a match to concentrate on – the most important match of his career, even rivaling his win against Orton for the WWE Championship, and facing Cena at Wrestlemania.

The duo make their entrance right on cue. They are composed. There are no lingering marks - their lips aren't swollen, there's not one indicator alluding to the activity they had been engaging in not ten minutes earlier. They strut down the ramp making their way to the ring, the audience's disapproval energizing them. The illusion of a platonic relationship is successfully maintained and after a grueling exchange, the challengers finally secure control of their matchup against the fan favorites.

Alex leaps to the corner, tagging his partner in and Mike is pumped. He attacks Daniel Bryan, knocking him off his game until the man can barely stand, but when he returns to a vertical base, Mike catches Bryan under his arms, raising them high above his head. There's no escape. Mike face-plants his former NXT rookie with his signature finishing maneuver and he's quick to roll his opponent over for the pinfall.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and Mike's theme song (the one he now shares with Alex) blasts throughout the arena.

Alex jumps through the ropes and rushes over to Mike, wrapping his arms around him in a way the audience is accustomed to. The celebratory sight further fuels the audience's outrage towards the new champions, a roar of disdain erupting from the crowd, overpowering the music.

Now, perhaps it's from the consuming desire still coursing through their systems from their backstage rendezvous, or even from the anticipation of what will happen when they get back to their hotel room. Or maybe it could be credited to the overwhelming relief of reuniting, or even from becoming the tag team champions they've long since dreamt about, but whatever the reason, their unprecedented display of affection triggers a collective gasp from the once unruly audience.

Mike slowly opens his eyes and only then does he realize how close he and Alex actually are. His lips are pressing against Alex's lips and there's no other way to describe what they're doing: they're kissing. Two men, in the center of a wrestling ring, on live international television, kissing each other.

Mike slowly pulls away from his boyfriend. The expletive he whispers is so quiet the cameras don't even pick up on it, but it makes his eardrums ring like they're about to explode. The serpent air constricts around him, squeezing him tight. Every inch of his body _feels_ the pounding of his heartbeat trying to burst out of his ribcage. His face, his ears, his flesh is burning. Every eye in the arena is glued to him, judging him, peering in on what was only ever supposed to be known to two people.

Suddenly, a degrading prejudicial slur - one Mike never imagined would ever be directed towards him - rips through the deafening silence. He's mortified. He's scared. Can't move, can't stop staring at Alex. And poor Alex. He's just standing there, eyes fixated on Mike's chest, trapped in his own state of confusion by the accidental exposure.

The pair are suddenly bombarded with an inundation of intolerance, the crowd uninhibited to vocalize their disapproval, and in some cases, their disgust. It's only when the official grabs him by the shoulder to escort him out of the ring does Mike finally hear the full extent of the verbal assault, and it's so different from when they loved to hate him. Now, he fears, they legitimately hate him.

Mike feels like he's in a war zone, dodging the bullets of bigotry as he's being whisked away backstage. It all happened so fast. He just wants to be alone. Come to terms with what he just did. Discuss it with Alex. Anything other than what he's being forced to do.

The man is tossed into a small room, thrown straight into the lion's den. Suddenly, he's face to face with the Chairman of the Board and CEO of the company, Mr. Vincent K. McMahon, and Mike can't help thinking how he'd rather take his chances with the audience instead.

Vince is fuming. If a man's head were ever to explode, Mike is sure this is what it would look like in the seconds leading up to it. Nevertheless, the nervous champion waits to be spoken to. That's what he's always been taught to do in situations like this - not that a situation like this has ever presented itself - but he knows to speak only when spoken to. His boss doesn't say a word though and the silence is all too intimidating.

Mike braces himself for an onslaught as he voluntarily steps into the flames. "Sir-"

"No!" Vince slams his fists on the desk as he stands to his feet, his bark nearly taking Mike's head off. "Don't you fucking _sir_ me! Do you have any idea what you've done tonight?!"

Mike attempts to answer the question, to defend himself, to apologize, but the instant he opens his mouth, Vince cuts him off again.

"People are at home celebrating the holidays with their families. With their _families_, Mizanin! And they tune into my show expecting to be entertained and instead they see you making out with another man on a fucking live broadcast!"

"We weren't making out-"

"Don't argue semantics with me, you little shit!"

Mike gulps, swears he feels the ground quake beneath his feet. He hasn't been yelled at so severely since he was caught cheating on a math test in fifth grade. His dad laid into him so hard he pissed his pants. He can only hope he has a bit more control over his bladder this time around. "What about the delay? They caught it, it wouldn't have aired. There's no way."

"Technical difficulties," Vince says with reflexive air quotes, "is the word from the control room. Technical difficulties." He pauses as if to appreciate the irony. "I gave that incompetent fuck a technical difficulty."

Mike's jaw drops in shock, disbelief. "You fired him?"

"You better focus on yourself, boy. Because I can assure you, you'd be fucked with or without a delay. The thousands of cameras in that audience weren't experiencing technical difficulties. All the phones with _internet access_, Mizanin. It's out there. Water through my fucking hands. A seven second delay was never going to contain what you did. You've made a mockery out of this company!"

"How? Because I kissed someone?"

"You smug son of a bitch! Don't act like you kissed just anyone. You kissed another man out there and I won't tolerate it!"

"You won't tolerate it?" Mike challenges boldly, infuriated by the implication, his nerves paling in comparison. "Isn't that what your anti-bulling campaign is all about? Isn't _Be a Star_ about teaching tolerance?"

"You're on thin ice, Mizanin."

"I'm completely serious. You think it's only about race and faith and ideology? You think there aren't kids out there who get bullied because they're gay? It's a fucking epidemic in this country and I witnessed it first hand tonight. And it's not exactly as if we're in conservative central here."

"You're telling me you pulled this stunt to strike up a national dialogue?"

"No," Mike scowls. "Of course not, but I encountered a very real problem regular people deal with every day, across this country, across the globe. People who watch our show, kids who just saw me get attacked over a kiss. I'm just saying that maybe some good can come out of this."

"_Be a Star_ is about connecting to our younger fan base. That's it. We're not in the business of preaching about the double standards that run rampant in society. If that's your new calling then by all means, but I guarantee you it won't be on the platform WWE provides. Not on my dime." He underscores that promise by straightening his suit jacket with authority. "You two were a ticking time bomb," he utters under his breath.

Mike shifts from indignation to disappointment. "So you did know about us?"

"Do you have anything in that skull of yours? Of course I knew. I'm the eyes and ears of this company. I _am_ the company! And its reputation, its whole goddamned future, and _my fucking legacy!_" Vince yells, pounding his fist against his chest, "is at stake because you couldn't keep it in your fucking pants!"

"Because of _me_? As far as I'm concerned this is all _your_ fault!" Mike can't help the way he lashes out at his boss, a man he used to respect and admire. Suddenly the confrontation is about much more than just the kiss for Mike, his resentment for the man visceral.

"You'd do good to choose your next words wisely."

"No!" Mike shouts defiantly, determined to confront the man who he deems responsible for making his life a living hell. "You're the one who convinced me to mentor Alex in the first place. _You_ forced me into it and don't pretend like you didn't because that's what you do. You manipulate people into doing what you want them to do. And then you rip us apart because Alex screwed up and didn't pay for it in a way that meets your standards? And never once did you take into consideration that he was already paying for it every single day. And then you, with all your power and arrogance, decide to throw us back together after months of unbelievable torture and what the hell did you think was gonna happen when you fuck with people's lives like that?" Mike takes a deep breath, his body shaking, but he feels lighter, the cathartic diatribe releasing a considerable amount of tension his body had been holding onto.

Vince's facial expression softens. He's well aware of what he did, and of the pain he's caused two of his most talented superstars. But he's a shrewd businessman. He didn't get to where he is without learning the necessity of silence - how to keep certain truths close to the vest. Nothing on earth could ever compel him to confess to such damming accusations, no matter how guilty he may feel for the role he's played leading up to the night's unfolding drama. Either way, as a direct result of his interference, his empire is facing a very real threat. Though it's unclear how big or small the impending threat will ultimately become, Vince doesn't take the situation lightly.

The ruthless executive takes a seat behind his temporary desk in his makeshift office, allowing himself a moment to think.

The organization has overcome countless scandals in the past, scandals far worse than the one currently gaining traction across the expanse of social media. Over the years, Mr. McMahon has learned how to embrace adversity, emerging on the other side even more successful and powerful because of it. His track record is the only source of any current comfort, the only thing providing him with any semblance of rational thought.

"Look, Mizanin, we need this to go away," he says, sensibly. "Controversy is one thing, we thrive on controversies here, but when you shove this kind of thing in people's faces, you run the risk of alienating half the country, not to mention whole regions of the world, and we're talking about ratings here, Mike. We're talking about revenue, money - people's jobs, people's livelihoods. This is far bigger than just a kiss, it's bigger than whatever arrangement you have going on with Riley or any social agenda you like to pretend is relevant in the world of sports entertainment. I'm going to need to know that you'll do your part in fixing this."

Mike looks to his boss suspiciously. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go home, that's what I want you to do. I want you to stay out of the public eye, keep a low profile. No press. No media. None of that paparazzi bullshit you're so fond of. You just won a title so people weren't going to see much of you anyway before next Monday. We'll use that excuse to our advantage."

"You want me to sit back and do nothing for a week? That's your idea of damage control?"

"You just do as you're told for once. Don't worry about what goes on on my end." Vince shuts his eyes, rubs his temples. "This is a fucking PR disaster," he mumbles.

"What about Alex?"

"I'm going to tell him to go home, too. And if you ever had any respect for this company or feel any remorse or responsibility for the position you've put it in, for Christ's sake, don't let anyone see you with him. A week won't kill you."

A lump forms in the base of Mike's throat. The thought of not seeing Alex for a week might not seem like much to anyone else, but after all they've been through, the restriction is tantamount to a death sentence. A look of defiance washes over him.

"Don't look at me that," Vince scolds. "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not saying you can't talk to him or never see him again, just steer the fuck clear of him 'til next Monday."

"And what happens on Monday?"

"You'll apologize for your actions, and…"

"And what?"

"And you'll officially announce that after what happened, you and Riley have decided it's in each of your best interests to be in singles competition and that you're forfeiting your titles."

"No way. It'll never work. Anyone with half a brain will see right through it. You'll be accused from the top down of homophobia and discrimination."

"If anything, dissolving your on-screen partnership with Riley will be seen as _lenient_. WWE will be praised for the lengths it's willing to go to in protecting its talent from the scrutiny of the public. I'll personally see to it that there's a subsequent press release short thereafter acknowledging this very position."

Mike's chin starts quivering when he realizes he's been cornered. He's lost the fight. "So, that's it then? Not only are you stripping me of my dignity, but you're gonna take away everything Alex and I worked so hard for, just like that?"

"Be grateful that's all I'm taking away. Now, there are already arrangements in place to have you escorted back to the hotel. Security is waiting for you in the hall and when you pass Riley, tell him to get his fuckin' ass in here so I can tell him the good news."

**xxxx**

Mike paces the length of his hotel room, finally having time to think about what happened and the more he thinks, the more guilty he feels. His eye catches a glimpse of the tv and though he's curious to find out how big the story is, he refuses to turn it on for fear of what people might be saying, or what he might see. Certainly doesn't need a visual reminder of the catastrophe. Besides, there's not a single doubt in his mind that when they can't find him, the first person the media's gonna track down will be Maryse and she'll confirm everything. No, no. No tv. And if the way his phone's been blowing up is any indication, he's making the right decision. Everyone he knows has been trying to get in touch with him, including his parents. He had to turn it off because he can't talk to anyone until he has a chance to talk to Alex.

Still pacing, he tells himself not to cry. He makes himself promise that he won't cry, but when Alex finally walks through the door, it's all over. A torpedo of emotion slams into Mike and he breaks down into a hysterical mess, rushing over to his boyfriend and throwing his arms around him.

Alex clutches Mike tightly. "You weren't answering your phone and I got so worried." Mike doesn't respond, but it's enough for Alex to just be with him. He lets the guy hold him for as long as he needs, Alex needing to be held by Mike just as badly. He remains relatively calm though, especially compared to Mike. Figures he must be emotionally drained from the past few weeks.

When Mike becomes weak and when his tears run dry, Alex pulls back. He holds Mike's face in the palms of his hands, attempts to clean his boyfriend up the best he can. Grows more concerned than he already was when he notices that Mike won't look at him. "Baby?"

"I'm so humiliated," Mike sobs, hiccupping as he tries to catch his breath.

"Don't let what other people think get to you. Isn't that what you always say? It doesn't matter what they think."

"_No_…of what _you_ must think of me."

"What?" asks Alex with a drawn out breath, confused as to why Mike would say such a thing.

Mike starts heaving, can barely breathe and he's reminded of all those dreams he had where he was drowning. "_Alex_…"

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe." Alex places his hand on Mike's chest, feels it rise and collapse violently. This is far from the first time he's seen Mike emotional, but it's certainly the worst time. He feels completely helpless.

Mike holds onto Alex's hand, pressing it firmly against his aching chest, his other hand brushing against Alex's cheek as he moves closer to him, pressing his forehead to his boyfriend. His hand drops to Alex's shirt as his head drops to a solid shoulder. "It's all my fault."

"No, no, there were two of us in that ring. This isn't your-"

"I think I did it on purpose," Mike confesses, looking up to Alex with a devastating sorrow flooding his eyes.

Alex sighs, feels so terrible that his boyfriend could feel this way - and angry that he's been made to. "I don't know what that bastard said to you, but it isn't true."

"I was so happy," Mike explains through incessant sniffling, forcing himself to get the words out before he has another attack. "We were back together, our parents even knew and they supported us and accepted us for who we are…" His eyes light up, reflecting the hope and joy he felt. "And even though it's not what all the other guys in the locker room are fighting for, it's what _we_ were fighting for and we got it. We won. We were the tag team champions and I just felt…invincible. I felt like I'd been set free." Mike pauses, his chin still quivering. "But I was selfish and I ruined everything because I wanted it all…and now he's gonna take you away from me again."

Mike can no longer quell his anxiety and starts bawling again. Alex is quick to embrace his boyfriend, cradles the back of his head in his hand. For the first time he's the one who can comfort Mike in the way the man has always done for him and he doesn't care if Mike kissed him on purpose or not because it already happened. There's nothing they can do to change it. "No matter what happens, no one's ever taking me away from you. I promise. I promise."


	33. Messes

PART IV

33. Messes

Mike would have gone stir crazy, he would have felt the unrelenting yearning ache of a stubborn withdrawal if he and Alex hadn't been staying in constant communication with each other. By that first night apart, he was already convinced that his phone, and the technology that powers it, must have been invented just for him, for this very moment in time.

The active stream of random calls and texts helped recharge him throughout the dragging days and lonely nights, and for that, he was grateful. But even a soothing voice and sweet words couldn't give him what he really needed. There was no real warmth. Nothing to hold onto except the promise of seeing Alex the following Monday, and that was still four days away.

However, he now finds himself cursing the way he began taking the last three days for granted because it's Friday evening and he hasn't been able to get in contact with Alex for hours. Hasn't the faintest clue where his boyfriend disappeared to.

With dinnertime approaching and Mike's belly starting to growl, he calls his favorite restaurant in the area and splurges on the ultimate comfort food. Maybe his favorite burger will lift his spirits. Not likely, he'll probably feel worse having strayed from his diet, but what he eats seems to be the only thing in his control these days.

After a reasonable wait, there's a knock at the door. Mike looks at his phone and sure enough the delivery guy is right on time. He grabs the doorknob and hesitates. Even knowing full well who's on the other side, there's still a glimmer of hope in him that Alex will be standing there instead, but that naïve wish vanishes with the opening of the door.

He's a young kid, early twenties, the same guy they sent last time. Generally in a chatty mood and always looking for recognition, Mike naturally struck up a conversation with him. Much to Mike's chagrin, though, he was neither responded to, nor was he recognized. Not surprisingly, his ego took a bit of a hit that day, but this time around, he finds himself relieved when the kid hands him his food without saying a word. Oddly enough, the silence is refreshing. Mike is all too grateful to encounter someone who doesn't have the need to offer an opinion about his situation.

"Thanks," he says, taking the bag from the kid. And that's that. He shuts his door and locks it. As he's turning away he's startled by another knock. It's not as forceful this time though. Instinctively, he thinks the kid must have forgotten something. Curious as to what it could be, Mike peaks into his bag, all too anxious to figure it out. He opens the door, still distracted by the mystery that's developed.

"You seeing someone else?"

Mike's frozen in place, he knows that voice. Not so much the jealousy lacing the words, but that voice. He looks up, a smile glistening in his eyes before it has a chance to reach his mouth. Any other day he would've already had a million comebacks in his arsenal for such a sarcasm, but on this particular one, not a single witty response can manifest itself into spoken word.

Quickly, Mike pulls Alex in by his hoodie, and as soon as the man steps over the threshold, he turns to face Mike, who turns to face Alex, his back pushing the door closed as Alex greets him with a deliriously life-altering-mind-blowing-positively-debilitating -crumble-to-the-floor-shooting-stars-and-fireworks -galore kiss to end all kisses. He wraps a leg around his boyfriend who responds by groping his thigh, and as if Mike wants to climb up his body, he wraps his other leg around Alex's waist.

The taste of Alex's mouth, the way he alternates between using his tongue and his teeth, the small whimpers of relief laden ecstasy ripping from deep within his throat, the way the man's strong hands find their way up his mesh shorts so he can grab onto warm flesh - it causes Mike to lose all feeling in his body. He'd either be floating away or, more likely, on the ground if it weren't for Alex pinning him against the door. The paper bag in his hand isn't so lucky though. It falls from his grasp, dropping to the hardwood floor; forgotten. To hell with the burger. He's found another way to satisfy his hunger.

Mike holds Alex tight and for a long moment he presses his lips against him in the same manner. Alex drags his lips across Mike's cheek, his head rolling against him as he settles in the crook of his neck. He may be holding Mike up, but really, Mike's the one holding him.

In time, Alex releases Mike, leaving the guy to brace himself against the door – if he can.

Still trying to catch his breath, Mike reflexively reaches behind his back and locks the door, can't manage to look away from Alex for even a second. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay home."

"I am home."

Mike shakes his head in awe, his breath being stolen from him just as he familiarized himself with the concept of breathing again.

"I had to see you."

"But the airports, they're so crowded."

"Too crowded. I blended right in. No one even noticed me."

Mike steps closer to Alex, scratches his scruffy face. "I'm sure all this must've helped too," he giggles, never having seen Alex with so much facial hair before. "You planned this."

"How could I go a week without seeing you?"

"I can't believe you're really here." Mike touches his boyfriend's chest, pressing his fingers into him, grabbing his belly, wanting to make sure his hunger didn't conjure up some kind of ultra realistic hallucination.

Alex laughs - Mike's poking and prodding a bit too much for his nerve endings. He swipes at Mike's hands but this only makes the frisky man grab at him more. "You better stop that," Alex warns, blushing.

Mike yanks his boyfriend into him by his hips, the tips of their noses touching, hues of blue engaged. "Or what?"

Alex answers the brazen dare by throwing Mike over his shoulder.

Mike laughs with ragged breath and when his vision refocuses, his eyes befall a sight he has no choice but to look at. He pats Alex's ass quickly, rhythmically. Oh the effect it has. "You really shouldn't tease me with a view like this if you're not naked."

"Never satisfied," Alex says with feigned annoyance, spanking Mike playfully.

Mike wriggles out of Alex's clutch, jumping off his shoulder and falling to his knees in the same motion. Urgently rips his belt out of the loops, unfastens his jeans and pulls them down to his ankles. The fervent man looks up as he pulls down his boyfriend's underwear. Likes to witness his facial expression. Likes to see the anticipation flood his eyes - shaded dark with desire; his lips parting, his breaths quickening. But Mike's way too hyper and he proves it by the way he hops to his feet, and with a stinging slap to one of Alex's most perfect features, he runs up the stairs.

It takes Alex half a second to process what just happened and when he does, he realizes he's already lost valuable time. So, instead of adding to his setback by taking off his shoes and then ridding himself of the clothes that threaten to trip him if he were to move, he decides it's far quicker to just pull up his jeans and after he does, he flies up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Alex stops short of entering Mike's room. The vision he finds is far too exquisite to disturb. He sees his boyfriend standing beside his bed, with his back towards him, completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing on him. Alex is enamored by the man's waiting form. Very rarely does he get to see Mike without a tan. He understands the necessity of it, but he's always loved it when Mike's natural coloring is allowed to take center stage. His complexion so milky and smooth, painted with just a few random freckles and he loves the fact that he's kissed every single one of them.

By now, his heart's been given ample enough time to stop racing from his dash up the staircase, but still, it flutters. Without further delay, he walks over to Mike, wrapping him up in his arms. Kisses his neck softly. "Are you trying to make me burst out of my pants?"

Wanting to accomplish just that, Mike rolls his hips provocatively, emphasizing the backend of the motion, gyrating against Alex's growing groin with his bare bottom. He tilts his head back generously so Alex can reach his mouth. While entangled in a sumptuous kiss, Mike moves his hands behind him, dragging his fingers up Alex's thighs until he finds his hips. Proceeds to push his boyfriend's jeans and underwear down, his own body bending to the cause. After all, it's not fair for him to be the only one who's naked.

Putting a temporary halt to the kiss, Mike leans away and looks into Alex's eyes. The longing, the wanting, the craving. It's palpable. Imminent. Mike crawls onto the bed slowly, seductively, because he knows he has a captive audience. Nearing the edge, he lays flat on his belly as he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a little bottle filled almost halfway with a clear liquid that proves itself to be quite beneficial.

Alex, having since stripped himself of all his clothes, kneels on the bed between Mike's legs, parts them further with his hands and moves a bit closer. Then grabbing Mike by his hips, he pulls his lover back into him, falling back on his heels for added leverage. Mike's stationed on the slight incline of his lover's lap and Alex can't help but rub Mike's shoulders sensually. He whispers words of affection in Mike's ear, further conveying that affection with his touch. Rubs his hands down Mike's arms, over his back, his chest and thighs, feeling every inch of him because he's allowed to, because he needs to. It's all the wonder and passion of a first time, the familiarity of a second, a third. The thorough savoring of a last. It's every time each time. He kisses his nape and his shoulder blades, to taste him, to feel more of him.

After an extensive awakening of the senses, Mike opens the bottle with a salacious snap of the lid. Pours some lube into Alex's palm and raises himself to his knees, creating a space between their bodies.

Alex adjusts himself with his slippery hand and places the other on Mike's hip, guiding him down. Hears a hitch in his lover's breath as he gently slides inside. They move together, their bodies responding to one another, playing off one another with ease and fluency. It's a steady buildup that ends up driving Mike to all fours. He looks behind him, enjoys the visual stimulation as much as the physical. Finding it necessary for a little more assistance, Alex reaches for the lubricant and when Mike hears the cap click open, he detaches and rolls over onto his back. Can't help but fondle himself while Alex does the same. But only momentarily.

With unbridled enthusiasm, Alex grabs Mike under his knees and yanks him up onto his lap again, the motion catching Mike off guard. A throaty laugh. He loves it when Alex takes charge, excites in the new direction this is heading in. This time he's in a supine position and without verbal instruction he instinctively raises his body up parallel to the bed as Alex powers himself to his knees - Mike's thick thighs shelved on sturdy forearms. From underneath, he holds his lover's hips taut as he increases his efforts; the man's audible pleasure motivating, encouraging. He locks onto the magnetic eyes across from him, the intensity of their bond magnifying because of it. His eyes travel down Mike's body. He can't help staring at the way his abs are defined in his current position, beads of salty moisture collecting in the ripples. Glancing down even further, he also can't help but notice Mike's very visible want of him – engorged and sweaty, and more importantly, _neglected_. Wanting to tend to it, he releases his grip on one of Mike's hips.

"No, don't stop."

Doing as Mike commanded, Alex takes hold of Mike's hips again, thrusting powerfully, vigorously, until he succumbs to an explosive orgasm.

Mike is released whether Alex intends to or not, his arms too weak to hold his partner up. Mike's body falls to the bed and before he has time to form a proper thought, he's promptly taken into his lover's mouth – Alex not content until Mike's needs are fully met.

Mike runs his hands through Alex's hair, watches him do what he does so well. "Turn around," he says, his voice shaking involuntarily.

Alex looks up to Mike - enticed. Rotates his body around, straddling Mike's torso, backwards, heels under armpits. Mike reaches up and drags his fingertips all the way down Alex's broad back as the guy lowers himself, taking Mike in his mouth as he does so. Trying to position himself as comfortably as he can, he shifts his weight to one side, crossing a leg over Mike's chest - his knee bent beside him - the other extended.

Mike nuzzles into Alex's thigh, his eyes drifting shut, feeling consumed. The weight of the man on top of him and all around him is a great comfort - knowing that he chooses to be here with him when he could be anywhere in the world, _with_ _anyone_ in the world. He's not sure he's ever felt more loved; more wanted. He kisses him wherever his lips land as he runs his hand over every inch of soft flesh he can reach, especially that breathtaking ass. Loves the view. Loves watching his muscles flex each time he moves even the slightest bit. Loves knowing that no one will ever see what he sees.

Alex pauses. Mike's roaming hands and lips on him proving concentration a difficult task. "Does my ass get you off?"

Mike smirks, wetting his lips. "Let's see." He reaches for Alex's hips, bringing him closer. Sloppily, he kisses the only place on Alex's body he can bruise where no one will ever see, his teeth grazing succulent flesh, the peak of season tree-ripened peach. But for the time being, he doesn't want to blemish such a perfect creation. Excess saliva, puts it to good use. Licks him intimately, intrusively, making Alex shudder, reducing him to moans and heavy sighs. Feeding off Alex's response, Mike does it once more, making sure it counts, and then shoves the guy with just enough force to send him to his belly. Mike lowers himself onto his lover, _into_ his lover. Fucks him deep and slow, restraining himself as long as he can, the aching pressure building until it hits an unavoidable peak.

Lovingly, Mike trails kisses all the way down Alex's body until he's at the head of the bed where he collapses, his strength finally spent.

After a minute, Alex opens his eyes and rolls over. Sees Mike's feet next to him and he grabs hold of them.

"Don't do it," Mike says with stern intent, but he's already laughing in spite of himself.

Alex kisses Mike's soles, mouths his toes, careful not to go overboard, wouldn't want Mike to get too rambunctious and kick him in the face - which has been known to happen on more than one occasion.

Mike rubs Alex's legs, clawing at him like he's trying to pull the man towards him. "Come here," he begs and Alex does.

Settling between strong thighs, Alex kisses his boyfriend. It's so hard to stop kissing him, he wishes he never had to, but his jaw needs a rest. Just one more and then he snuggles up next to the irresistible man who only seems to get more irresistible with each passing day, each hour, each kiss, each breath. He listens to Mike breathe. Feels like he's in the ocean – his cheek adrift on Mike's chest. Up and down as the waves of breath pass beneath him.

Absolute peace.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Alex suddenly recalls something. "Oh! I wanted to show you something. Look at this," he says, leaning off the side of the bed.

Mike reaches out and touches Alex's backside fondly. "Yes, I'm very familiar with it."

Alex laughs and falls back to Mike. "No, _this_," he says, showing Mike his phone. He scrolls through the missed calls list. "Mike, Mike, Mike-"

Mike gasps. "I couldn't get a hold of you all day. You can't make fun of me for being worried!"

Alex turns to Mike, propping himself up with his elbow. Listens to the guy overreact as he defends his actions of the day, his smile growing the more Mike rambles. "God, I love your voice," he interrupts.

Mike immediately stops and looks at Alex, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. "You love my voice?"

Alex nods with a pleasant sigh, bites his bottom lip. "The sound of it. You have no idea." He pauses for brief moment before continuing. "The messages you'd leave, for those few months, they carried me through because of that voice." The pair share a long look and then Alex adds, "I could listen to you talk all day."

"Good," Mike simpers, "because I can."

"And the _way_ you talk. I love that thing you do with your vowels."

Mike blushes, tucks his chin in. "I do a thing with my vowels?"

"It's your accent."

"A kid from Parma, Ohio does _not_ have an accent."

"Oh, indeed you do, Mr. Mizanin." Alex touches Mike's lips with his index finger. "And I especially love the way your tongue goes to the side of your mouth when you say my name."

Mike says Alex's name slowly so he can figure out what the hell he's talking about and sure enough, his tongue does exactly what Alex says it does. He can't help but giggle.

"See? It makes me glad I stuck with _Alex_."

Mike swipes his thumb across his boyfriend's swollen mouth. "I'm glad I stuck with Alex, too."

A quick peck and then Alex flops next to his boyfriend again. "Look at us," he says, hitting the tousled bed. "We sure know how to make a mess."

Mike smiles. "At least we're consistent." His hand gravitates to Alex's, their fingers intertwining every which way. "So how do you propose we clean this one up?"

"Shouldn't be too hard. It's not like you don't have a washer and dryer."

Mike laughs out loud. "No, I mean-"

"Oh, right," Alex says with a slow drawl. He pauses for a moment, thinking, considering. "Listen," he says seriously, bringing Mike's hand up to his chest. "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Tell them it was my fault."

"Absolutely not!" Mike pulls his hand away and sits up, pissed that Alex would even consider such a thing, much less think he'd actually agree to it. "McMahon would have every reason in the world to fire you then."

Alex reaches out and runs his hand over Mike's back. "Just hear me out, babe," he says calmly.

Mike cocks his head slightly. He doesn't speak but that's mostly because his body is too tense.

"Everything I did was so that you wouldn't lose your job and with the way people have reacted to us…" Alex pauses, grimaces, doesn't understand why it has to be such a big deal, and logically he knows why, but emotionally, personally, it tears him up inside. There's no changing the world overnight though. "I know what McMahon said and I know it's not like him to fold, but he might cave to the pressure. If he can't get a handle on things he'll end up cutting us loose anyway. I don't know, maybe that's what he wants. As much as it shouldn't matter, we really hit a nerve and not in a good way. And if you end up losing your job after everything we went through," he says boldly, wanting to make sure it's getting through to Mike, "then it was all for nothing."

Mike twists his upper body and looks back at Alex. "And what about you? I don't want you to lose your job either. You're just getting started. You have too much talent and potential to throw it all away. And for what?"

"For _you_!"

Mike huffs. "I've had more than enough time. I've accomplished everything I set out to do. I could take the rap for this."

Alex drops his head, sighs with frustration.

Mike chews on his lower lip, hates seeing Alex so distraught. "Or we could tell the truth and whatever happens, happens."

Alex looks up to Mike, concerned. Grows even more concerned when he sees how earnest Mike is - sincerity overwhelming his eyes. "Mike, I-"

"_No_. When I say I want to share my life with you, that's exactly what I mean. I literally want to _share_ my life with you. You and me, together. I wanna be able to do what other couples do. I wanna go out with you. To dinner, to events, to parties, to football games, basketball games, any kind of game. I wanna be able to walk down the fucking street together. I don't wanna travel the world and leave you behind, filling you in on all the things I get to do _without_ you over the _fucking phone_. I sure as hell don't wanna look back years from now and realize all of our memories of us are in this goddamned bed!"

Mike pauses, didn't mean to hit the bed the way he did. He takes a deep breath, slowly releases the bundle of sheets clenched in his fist. Hates lashing out at Alex especially when he knows his boyfriend feels the same way.

"Besides, what about the kids out there. We could make a real difference if we wanted to. I mean, what are they gonna think when they see us running from who we are and ashamed of expressing it? It was a kiss in one of the happiest moments of our lives and now we're just supposed to send out the message that it was wrong? We could help change things. Don't you think we have a responsibility to the-"

"My responsibility is to _you_. This is _our life_! You think it's bad being cooped up like this now, barely even able to go to the store without being swarmed? _Every_ night it's going to be the same thing. We're gonna have to go out there, we're gonna have to face a new group of people who are seeing us for the first time since all this happened, and it doesn't matter if it's next week or a year from now, everyone's gonna want their chance to let us know exactly what they think of us. Whether it's good or bad, it doesn't matter. We're gonna have to prove ourselves over and over again. And that's what our life would become. That's all we would be to people. Everything else would become secondary. This is a long, long road you want to go down. And it's not that I'm ashamed of you or what we have. And I know you could handle it…I just don't know if…"

Mike gulps. The worry in Alex's eyes says it all. He should have been allowed to decide when and where he came out, but the choice has been irrevocably stolen from him and Mike knows it's all his fault. What he's suggesting isn't just something for himself, he put Alex in this situation, too. "Fine," he says, "then to hell with all this bullshit. Let's just pack our bags and go away. Leave all this behind and start fresh. I have more than enough money for us to disappear somewhere where no one would know who we are."

Alex shuts his eyes tight, shaking his head. "That's not who you are. That's not who I am." He scoots closer to Mike and kisses his shoulder tenderly, feels the man's body weaken. "Let me do this for you, baby," he whispers. "Let me do it right this time."

Mike is so tired. All he wants to do is wrestle and be with Alex and for everyone to just let him be. "People will know it's a lie. They saw us."

"Maybe some will…but once it blows over, they'll forget about it. And I know what this would mean for us, I'm not pretending it'll be a cake walk. But we've done it before, we can do it again. Besides, it'll be different this time. We'll still see each other every chance we get and I swear to always pick up my phone." Alex chuckles, but Mike is unfazed. "Please, just promise me you'll think about it."

Mike hesitates and then nods reluctantly.

**xxxx**

It's been one tumultuous roller coaster of a year for Mike and Alex, one that's finally coming to a close. Only a few more minutes now.

It's a pretty drastic change for Mike to be curled up on his couch waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square. He's used to ringing in the new year in style, with extravagance. Partying in Vegas has been his favorite destination the past few years, but when the clock strikes twelve and his lips are pressed against Alex's, there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Mike reaches for the remote and turns off the tv. Strokes Alex's arm affectionately. "So, what's your resolution?"

"Y'know, I haven't given it much thought actually," Alex says, his cheek pressed against Mike's temple. "Oh, how about this. To never again let three days go by without seeing you."

Mike smiles, but it's short lived - Alex's resolution reminding him of a more pertinent matter. "We might not have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

Mike hesitates. Even with Alex next to him last night, he barely slept at all. Everything they've been through shuffled in his busy mind as he tried to figure out which route he'd take come Monday night. Ultimately, it was the promise he made to himself last February on Valentine's Day - the promise he recently failed to keep - that led him to his decision. "I'll do what you asked. Not because it's what I want, but because I know how much it means to you."

Alex brings his hand up to Mike's forehead, kisses his temple. He's relieved and so grateful because now he knows Mike's future is secure, but there's an underlying sadness that lingers because of what it means for his own.


	34. Clarity

34. Clarity

Alex watches Mike put on his suit jacket. Even when dealing with so much, he still takes the time to appreciate just how handsome his partner is, even when the guy's riddled with nerves. Actually, his vulnerability makes him all the more attractive.

Noticing that Mike's collar is flipped up in the back, Alex walks over to him and folds it down. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with?"

"You know I do," Mike says, turning around to Alex apprehensively, wishes so badly that he didn't have to do this on his own. "But if we're seen together, none of this is gonna work."

"Yeah," Alex sighs, looking to the ground. Of course he understands why it's not a good idea for him to go, but that doesn't make him feel any less guilty about not being able to fulfill one of the most important functions of being in a relationship.

"Hey…" Mike tilts Alex's chin up. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Alex's devotion to Mike is incomparable. He meant what he said on Christmas – he'll put Mike before everything, even himself. "Yes. I want you to do this." He leans in and presses his lips to Mike's, can feel his boyfriend's lips trembling against his own. He pulls back, gripping both sides of Mike's lapel. "What is it?"

Doubt. Uncertainty. His mission feels so wrong; his purpose - blurry. The negative energy spreads throughout his body, a virus attacking any and all positive thoughts that remain. "I don't think I can do this."

Alex holds Mike's face in his hands, forces him to look into his eyes. "You, Michael Mizanin, are the strongest person I know."

"I'm not strong."

"Yes, you are. And you're confident and brave. You own that stage when you're out there, you always have, long before you met me. And even though I won't be with you out there, know that I always am."

Mike sniffs, a twitch of his nose, not because he's crying, but to help him psych himself out. "I guess this is it then."

Alex kisses Mike's forehead, squeezes the back of his neck as they turn towards the door. "Just remember how much you've gone through to get here, your commitment, your dedication. Don't let them take it away from you, because you could have it all. You just need to do this one thing and you'll still have a chance to take this industry by storm."

"I could have it all, huh?" Mike's not sure if Alex even understands the gravity of what he just said, the irony of it, because in Mike's mind - in his heart - having it all includes Alex by his side.

**xxxx**

Mike stands backstage in a deep trance-like state. His mind blank, his body numb. He's been trying to focus, trying to hold on tight to Alex's belief in him, but time runs out and he's ripped away from it all when his music starts playing. His only relief comes from knowing he doesn't have to make one of those silent entrances. Talk about brutal. He takes a step and then another, and as he's nearing the curtain he hears someone call out to him. He huffs, agitated, nervous; knows exactly who it is. He looks to his hovering boss who glares at him and without a word he receives the message loud and clear.

It's what Vince wants. It's what Alex wants. One man who's only thinking about himself and his bottom line; the other who's willing to sacrifice everything for the person he loves. Though their reasons lie on opposite sides of the spectrum, they both want the same thing - they both want Mike to lie. Seeing no way out of it, Mike knows he doesn't have any other choice except to stick to the plan.

Here it goes.

He steps out onto the stage, lights hitting him cruelly, wanting to blind him, to burn him. He walks down the ramp and where the incline meets the floor, he hears a man shout out next to him.

"Hey Miz! Where's your boyfriend?!"

Mike doesn't respond to the heckler, doesn't even look at him, but inside he wants to confront the guy and inform him that his insult is lacking because Alex Riley actually _is_ his boyfriend. No bother, he's stepping through the ropes of the squared circle he's always regarded as a second home.

Standing in the middle of the twenty-by-twenty canvas, Mike looks out to the palisade of people, which is nothing compared to the multitudes watching from home. Sweaty palms make it difficult to hold the microphone so he has to alternate his grip every few seconds to keep it from slipping out of his hands. He's so grateful for the accompaniment of his music while he has it, but it's bound to stop eventually and when it does, he's completely exposed.

It's quiet. A heavy silence.

Everyone's just staring at him. Any other night, the suffocating silence would indicate a lack of interest, but tonight it's because everyone's waiting for an explanation for what happened last week. It's unusual to witness a wrestling crowd unsure of how they should respond. He knows he's put everyone in an awkward position but they're always so vocal regardless of the issue. And God knows they certainly didn't have a problem living up to that expectation over the course of the past week. Opinions from every side. His detractors finally finding the perfect ammunition to use against him and they weren't the only ones. Everyone inherently knows there's a certain standard that must be upheld, a line drawn in the world of sports that must be respected - especially those sports revolving around contact of a physical nature, especially when the competitors are half naked, especially when those half naked competitors are men. It's nothing new, the line has always been there, explicit in its intent by merely existing. Mike just kinda tripped over it.

The atmosphere starts to deteriorate when Mike still doesn't talk; the audience growing impatient with him. A chant conveying that very sentiment breaks out and _there's_ the WWE Universe he's familiar with. Although, he's not sure what they're saying - his own thoughts proving more persuasive.

He's compelled to turn towards the stage and when he does, he just stands there, frozen, mesmerized by it. It's how he came in, but it's also how he can get out. A few berating words falsely condemning his tag team partner for trying to run his career into the ground, accusing him of worming his way back into his good graces only to betray that trust and turn on him _again_. Vilify him as the ultimate traitor and then the ramp could carry him away and it would all be over. He could go spend the rest of the night curled up next to the man instead, clinging to what's truly important, because unlike the last time their characters were ripped apart, this time around Alex will be waiting for him.

But still, he doesn't speak, he doesn't move.

Still transfixed, he sighs heavily, releasing a long held breath and with it, the shackles of anxiety. The conflict swirling inside melts away as he's shown an apparition of his younger self basking in the bright lights. He's standing on the stage introducing his new rookie to the NXT audience. At the time, all his dreams seemed so distant, his career veering off track. How could he have known he was exactly where he was supposed to be? He watches as Alex wraps his arm around his shoulder, big smiles on their faces as they walk down the ramp together - something they'll never be able to do again. But then Mike finds himself smiling whimsically, realizing it's something they _could_ do again.

In a moment of perfect clarity, he can see it happening.

He's felt this rush of peace wash over him before, cascading over him with hope. It was when Alex kissed him for the first time - so brave in busting down the door, showing him all that could be possible. And then more recently, only a few nights ago. He was overcome by a supreme tranquility that whisked him away from what he'd been doing. He just stood there by his bedside, no longer wishing Alex was with him, but _knowing_ he was, and then he felt strong arms wrap around him; the feeling so real and so right. As real as he believes his glimpse into the future is and as right as walking down that aisle with Alex has always been.

Everything he's ever wanted is at his fingertips. All he has to do is be brave. Just reach out and take it. Prove that it's what he wants or resist and only prove he never really wanted it at all.

He looks around to the sold-out arena, their chants loud yet still unclear, but he's the one with the mic. He's the one who can speak louder than anyone. He owns the stage, he's running the show and there's nothing anyone can do to change that, least of all the person who thought he had all the control. Too many cell phones, too many cameras. He's free - delay or no delay.

And now there's no more need for delay.

Mike adjusts the knot in his tie with cocky intent. Refusing to roll over, he confidently brings the microphone up to his mouth, always loved getting under people's skin anyway. No need for a script. No need for conspicuously written crib notes on the palm of his hand. He has the words. He's always had the words.

"Since day one," he states, commanding the attention of every man, woman and child in attendance, "I never listened to anyone who told me I wasn't good enough, that I didn't fit the mold of what a superstar should be, that I didn't have the talent to be here. Whether it was the wrestlers in the back who kicked me out of the locker room, or each and every one of you who would boo me and yell at me to go home. But I'm still here, standing before you a former WWE Champion!"

Mike lets that reminder sink in for a moment before elaborating.

"I told you all that I would become WWE Champion and do you remember what happened next? I climbed that ladder and won Money in the Bank! I cashed in that contract and pinned Randy Orton and then I told you I was going to headline Wrestlemania and retain my title and that's exactly what happened. Don't you see? It never mattered what you people thought. If anything, the negativity only fueled my determination to prove you all wrong."

Mike pauses for a moment, smirks condescendingly to the crowd in typical Miz fashion, in a way they recognize. "And if this past week has proven anything at all, it's that I still don't care what anyone thinks about me. I am who I am. I'm who I've always been. I'm the most must-see superstar of all time! And I will never apologize for that. There's always gonna be people out there, right here in this audience and sitting at home, hating me for how I look, for how I talk and how I act, and you're _still_ not able to take your eyes off me. You all whine about how I don't belong here, still using the tired excuse that I took shortcuts and used my experiences from reality tv to get a contract with the WWE. And all the while continuing to ignore all my hard work and my unparalleled perseverance, and basically…well, now you can even use my personal life against me if you want, and there's nothing I can do about that. But I'm not out here to discuss my personal life. I don't have to. You all saw what happened last Monday on Raw. There's no denying what Alex Riley and I did. We won the tag team championships! We earned those titles and no matter what anyone thinks or says about us, we have _earned_ the right to defend them!"

Mike is received with a mixture of reactions, a cross-section of opinions. A representation of the country, of the world, and all it does is remind him how much he thrives in the chaos. If he's going to be pushed out, he's going out on _his_ terms.

"That being said, my partner and I will be here next week to fulfill our rematch obligations and after we win, mark my words, Alex Riley and I will go on to become the longest reigning tag team champions in history! And not only that," Mike says, spinning towards the stage and pointing his finger boldly. "If you're standing backstage holding a championship right now, you're officially on notice because we're coming for your titles next!"

Mike drops his mic to the mat - the _thump_ it makes echoing throughout the rowdy venue. He jumps out of the ring and struts up the ramp, unaffected and undeterred; so much adrenaline pumping through his system as he makes his way through the curtain.

"Mizanin!"

Mike would know that gravely voice anywhere. He glances to Vince defiantly, arrogant smile fixed in place because he knows he just beat the titan at his own vengeful game. Ratings won't suffer because of him. If anything, they'll soar and he knows Vince must be secretly impressed, no matter how trampled his ego is.

Staying on course, Mike heads to the parking lot. In this moment he couldn't care less about what anyone has to say. Well, that's not entirely true. There is one person whose opinion matters, a person he has once again broken his promise to.

He refrains from calling Alex, this is something he has to do in person. Though as he's driving to the hotel, he admittedly grows more and more concerned because his boyfriend hasn't called him either. And he knows he was watching the show. Fuck, he must be so disappointed.

Mike slips his keycard into the electronic slot and when he opens the door and sees Alex sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over in the silence, his adrenaline rush loses momentum and comes crashing down. "Alex…" Mike gulps, watches as Alex stands up and the man looks as drained as Mike feels. "I'm so sorry," he says, walking towards his boyfriend.

Alex meets Mike halfway, just staring at him, not saying a word.

"I'm so sorry, Alex. I was up there and I just couldn't, I couldn't do it."

Alex grabs Mike's face, tears starting to dance in his eyes. "I told you you were strong," he says emotionally, forehead to forehead. Emphasizes his admiration and undying support with a kiss and a big hug.

With his tensions put to ease, Mike blissfully melts into Alex's embrace, but then all the tension strikes again, compounding tenfold. "Oh God," he gasps, pulling away from his boyfriend's affections. Scrunches his faux hawk as he aimlessly walks passed him. "I was overly confident out there, wasn't I? I got carried away." He clutches his stomach, feeling nauseated. "I'm so stupid. I actually deluded myself into thinking he was impressed with me." Frantically, he turns around. "_Impressed_, Alex! No way was he impressed. He was livid. He's not gonna put up with the shit I just pulled out there. I defied his orders. I flat out disobeyed _Vince McMahon_ and we both know what happened the last time someone humiliated him."

Mike collapses onto the bed, covers his mouth as he stares wide-eyed, focused on nothing.

Alex sits next to his panicked boyfriend, wanting to comfort him. "I'm sure on some level he was impressed."

"Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep breaking my promise to you? I went out there and I was gonna do what you asked me to. I swear I was."

"I know," Alex says, taking Mike's hand in his own. "And I let you, even though I knew it wasn't what you wanted. I was just trying to do what I thought was right for you. But again, it wasn't my call and I shouldn't have made you think you had to fall in line with my thinking." Alex huffs, frustrated with himself. "Do you think we're ever gonna learn?"

Mike chuckles lazily. "I guess we're just gonna have to keep each other in check from now on."

Alex nods, looks to Mike, sees how shaken up he still is. "Y'know, intuition is a powerful thing, and I had to learn the hard way why it shouldn't be ignored. I would never want you to dismiss that voice inside you. Not for anything. Not even for me. I'd never want to deprive you of that gift and I would _never_ hold it against you for listening to it."

Mike leans in close, nuzzles against Alex's neck. "He's really got it in for us now."

"Maybe," Alex concedes, wrapping an arm around Mike. "But after that promo of yours tonight, everyone's gonna expect our match next week and he'd be a fool not to let us go ahead with it. We'll just do what we've been doing for one more week and next Monday we'll give 'em a match they'll never forget."


	35. Matches

35. Matches

It was agreed upon the first night back in Mike's bed – there would be no mention of their upcoming match; they wouldn't discuss it, the topic was officially off limits. Mike and Alex's lives have been so stressful as of late that they thought it best to just enjoy the week they have together. Treat it as if they're on vacation. After all, if everything works out, it could be the last one they get for a while.

Of course they couldn't escape their reality completely. That would be all too convenient, and nothing about their lives together has ever resembled the word.

No, it's not like they could fly to a beach resort on some tropical island paradise in the Caribbean. Needless to say, Mike's favorite part about LAX – the paparazzi – has become a less than ideal situation for him at the moment, especially now that the holidays are over and they're back in full force.

Then there was the thought of driving somewhere, except they realized that they really don't have anywhere to go. It's not exactly the right time for Alex to visit his favorite gym in Venice Beach. They can't even really go to a golf course without special arrangements being made. And they didn't dare consider Las Vegas as an option.

Besides, they shouldn't be seen together in public anyway until they defend their titles. It's about creating anticipation, but it also comes down to a need for privacy.

Ironically, for two guys who thrive on social activities and have never felt the slightest affinity towards a reclusive lifestyle, that's exactly where they find themselves: hanging out in Mike's condo and as it turns out, they couldn't be happier. It can't continue this way, nor do they want it to, but the space between Monday to Monday has given the couple a chance to do something they haven't had much time for in the past. They can relax, and if everything blows up in their faces, they'll figure out their next move come Tuesday.

But this week belongs to them.

**xxxx**

Alex peeks into Mike's room – _their_ room. "There you are," he says, but he's not sure if Mike's even heard him. Seems to be preoccupied with his mp3 player, scrolling through a playlist. "I was thinking about making pancakes, ya want some?"

Mike reaches out behind him and waves his hand. "Listen," he urges. With a click of a button, a song starts playing and he spins around to Alex with a big grin.

It takes a few bars for Alex to recognize Mike's selection, but when he does, he smiles too. It's a song he knows all too well, and should have known even before sound reached the speakers. His goofy smile stretches from ear to ear when Mike starts jumping around and singing. It's an off-key rendition, but he'd choose it over the original every single time. He leans against the doorway, soaking it all in. Watches his partner's titillating performance until the chorus hits and then he joins in with some singing and dancing of his own. "We're superstars! We are who we are!" he belts.

When the chorus hits for the second time, Alex rushes over to Mike and snakes his arm around his waist, bringing him as close as possible. They kiss, still moving to the beat, but it's slower, more fluid - a visual in perfect juxtaposition to the upbeat song - and soon it doesn't matter what song is playing because when they make love, anything that exists outside of their union fades into nothingness.

When his surroundings come back into focus, Mike turns inward, gazing at his lover. The sheen layer that coats his body and his face gives the illusion of a glow and Mike is all too satisfied knowing he's the cause of it. He runs his fingers through Alex's dampened hair, captivated by such a sight. "Has any other man ever _loved_ the way I love you?"

The tender ache in Mike's voice is enough to bring Alex to his knees if he were standing. He caresses Mike's cheek, the skin beneath his hand rough to the touch. "Only one," he says, admiring his lover who's radiating with an equally beautiful glow of his own.

Blood pumping in excess, swelling his heart, swelling him between the legs again. Two words holding all the arousing power of Alex's most sumptuous kiss. Mike's desire to flip his partner over is waned only by the prospect of saying something he's often thought but never shared. "When McMahon first told me about you, he said you'd compliment me, my style. Turns out he was right about one thing. You're my perfect match in every way, Alex Riley." He runs his thumb over the man's lips, holds his chin with an easy grip. "Kevin." The name rolls off Mike's tongue with barely a whisper and he can't help but smile. "I think I knew the first moment I saw you. Somewhere inside me, I knew you were the one. You walked through the door and you were for me. Just me."

"Oh God," Alex chuckles, bringing his hand up to his forehead as he flashes back to the first time he met Mike. "I was so nervous that day. I can't even tell you how many times I changed my clothes."

"Really? Well, I can assure you it didn't show. I don't think I ever saw anyone command a room like that before."

"You were the only one looking."

Mike blushes. "You noticed."

"I never saw anyone look at me the way you were. How could I have been so blind?"

Mike wonders the same thing about himself - how he couldn't have been conscious of the fact that he was standing in front of the one person who laid claim to his heart, his soul, his whole life even before they ever spoke a word. But as time would prove, it was a discovery process they both needed to experience on their own, at their own pace. It couldn't be forced.

Mike laces his fingers with Alex's, grasping his hand with purpose. "You changed my life."

"I turned it upside down."

It would be very easy for Mike to run down the long list of all the ways that would disprove the negativity of such a remark, but there's no need for a lofty speech. "Remember when you told me that you were glad you lost NXT because in losing you actually won?"

A soft smile, Alex being transported back to the night he kissed Mike for the first time; the moment that would forever mark a division in his life. A poor man discovering treasured gold, a blind man knowing nothing but darkness and seeing the light. Any and every grand cliché, Alex readily assigns to that moment.

"And it took you a while before you understood _why_ you lost when we both knew you should've won." Mike pauses, his eyes starting to well up. His cheeks flushed. He knows they promised not to talk about their situation, not even the circumstances leading up to it, but he needs to say what he's feeling while the words are available and the mood set. "I'm glad we went through all that shit, the time we spent apart."

"That's a nice way of putting it." Alex shifts his legs slightly. He's visibly uncomfortable, always is when they talk about what he did. The wound not yet healed. "But I don't see how."

"Because it made us stronger. Unbreakable. If it wasn't for everything we went through, our trials and tribulations as it were…" Mike giggles, doesn't even have to try being adorable, he just is. That alone easing the tension Alex feels. "I might have taken the easy way out and we wouldn't be here right now."

"If I didn't leave you in the first place, everything would've been different. We wouldn't have kissed in front of everybody and then we wouldn't _have_ to be here right now."

"You don't know that. You said it yourself, one day we'd forget where we were and we'd slip up. It could've happened anyway, at some point down the line, or maybe it already would have months ago, and it would've steamrolled right over us. But this way, we still have a fighting chance. See, everything we went through, it makes it all worth it."

To think such good could have come from all the mistakes he made makes Alex tear up. And for the first time since confessing, he really believes that he has been forgiven. Along with Mike's forgiveness and discovering profound meaning in it all, he can finally let go of all the guilt that's weighed so heavy on his soul. "Thank you, baby," he whispers. Holds the connection long enough for Mike to know how truly grateful he is, then leans in and presses his lips to those of his lover. Nibbles on them, tugging at his lower lip and then moves his munching to Mike's jaw line, then to his neck. "You make me so hungry," he growls. Opens his mouth wide, latching onto Mike's warm flesh, a mild gnawing.

Mike giggles - Alex's kisses far too ticklish and his playfulness, contagious. "I do recall you mentioning something about pancakes."

"That's not your name."

And that's all it takes for Mike to flip Alex over, the flipping of pancakes having to wait.

**xxxx**

There's a limit to how fast Alex can lace up his boots and he's always been appreciative of that fact. It forces him to slow down, allowing him time to think. Sometimes, he'll completely remove the laces and start from scratch, the repetitive nature of the task being therapeutic. The whole process relaxes him and calms his nerves, but his system doesn't seem to be working as well as it has in the past.

When he's finished with his boots, he ruffles through his bag and finds the white tape he uses to bind his left wrist and forearm with. It helps guard against flare ups from an old football injury. It's a necessity he can't afford to go without when he's in the ring. Round and round he goes, another opportunity he uses to subdue rattling nerves. In his periphery he sees Mike get up from the bench and start pacing briskly; the man's nerves presenting in a much more obvious way. Back and forth, back and forth. This prompts Alex to increase the speed of his revolutions so he can tend to a greater need. Using his teeth, he quickly rips the tape off from the roll, tosses it into his bag and walks over to Mike, catches him from behind. He wraps his arms across the man's belly and his chest. Can feel his heart racing, can feel him hyperventilating.

"Just breathe, baby. Like me." Alex inhales deeply, exhales with steady control. The timing of his breaths dictates the way Mike breathes and he just holds his partner until he's settled down.

Mike leans his head back, rests it on a strong shoulder. "I'm so nervous."

Alex kisses Mike's temple. "It's just a match," he whispers against the man's ear.

Mike turns around, looks to Alex with worried eyes. "It's so much more than a match."

Alex nods. "I know." He runs his hands from Mike's shoulders down his arms, wants to hold his hands, but before he reaches his destination, he feels something he shouldn't: bare wrists. "You forgot your tape."

"Oh shit." Mike relapses, reverts into panic mode again. He darts to his bag, frantically searching its contents for what he needs.

Noticing that Mike's stress levels are skyrocketing, Alex reaches out and rubs the guy's shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. Let me."

Mike takes a deep breath, hates feeling so dependent, so incapable, but he backs off anyway, giving Alex space to find the tape.

Alex sits on the bench, his partner standing between his parted knees. He looks up with a sweet smile and Mike feels a great calm wash over him. Never has understood how Alex has that much influence over him - with just a look, with just a touch. He watches as Alex kisses the inside of his wrist in the way he always does, and proceeds to wrap the tape around it. There's something so powerful in such a simple gesture and Mike knows why. He catches his breath, having been here before.

Alex moves to the other wrist, kisses it and wraps it with the same consideration. Rips the black tape and secures it with a firm swipe of his thumb.

Mike holds Alex's face, a tender palm meeting a tender cheek. There was a time when he wanted the world's approval. He never admitted it to anyone, barely even to himself, but he clamored for it. He wanted the world to embrace him as a wrestler, to recognize his talent; he wanted to be popular and liked; to be respected. And more recently and more consciously, he wanted the world to accept him for who he is and who he chooses to spend his life with, not because he needs their approval to justify his choice - or more accurately, his lack thereof - but because he feels like he deserves it. Though, as he's drawn into Alex's ever-steady eyes, his heart still fluttering but no longer because of nerves, he realizes none of that matters anymore because in _them_, he's already found a world of everything he's ever needed, and more than he could ever want. He smiles softly, stroking Alex's cheek with his thumb. In this moment, this familiar moment, there's only one thing he can think to say and he wouldn't dare deny the urge. "I love you."

Alex presses his hand to Mike's. Melts into his touch. "I love you, too."

The pair linger in the moment they've created, but not for too long. There's still the matter of a certain rematch clause they're more than happy to fulfill.

Alex gets up and walks over to the matching set of tag team titles displayed on the table. "Champ," he says with a reverent nod, handing one over to Mike and then he picks up the one that belongs to him.

Silently, they make their way to the staging area and await their cue.

Mike tries to lose himself in his usual routine - to prepare, to get into character, but he can't concentrate. Can't get a grip on a single thought, his body pulsating from within, pushing coherency out of reach with each pounding beat. He's taken even further from the zone he'd like to enter when a signal is given. It's loud and intrusive. Ten seconds to go. He looks over to his partner who's doing some last minute stretching and as if he's said the man's name out loud, Alex immediately looks to him. "I don't know if this'll work out," Mike says, his thought articulate and most certainly spoken out loud this time.

Alex moves closer to Mike and squeezes the back of his neck affectionately, his eyes saying so much and there's no need to reiterate his promise, but he does anyway. "Win or lose."

Smile is reflected with equally joyous smile as music fills the arena. It's their music, it's their cue, and together, they walk out into the bright lights of the unknown.

* * *

And that concludes the absolute greatest thing I've ever done.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. Seriously.  
I didn't get too many comments along the way, which was probably my fault since I didn't ask for feedback (but it's just because I didn't want to interrupt the flow of the story, not because I wasn't curious what you thought) but from the stats I get, there's been a consistent number of people reading each chapter, not a huge amount, but for a Mizley story, I'd say it's pretty darn good since they haven't had any contact on Raw in over two years. Boooo!

Anyway, _Convergence_ is my baby, my pride and joy, and so much more.  
It took a year of working on my writing technique and developing it, because I didn't have one. I had to figure out what works and what doesn't work for me, had to figure out what I'm actually capable of (for one thing, I was never, ever going to write a love scene!). And also it gave me a chance to really delve into Mike and Alex as characters before I could even conceive of tackling a project this big, not that I ever had any intentions of writing anything this elaborate, and then one day, July 22, 2012 to be exact, I had a burst of true inspiration.

The original idea was going to be a one-shot in which Alex and Mike would accidentally kiss in the ring (obviously, that would later become Chapter 32 – The Moth). But an event that monumental needed meaning behind it, it needed context. It needed a proper build-up and it needed a worthy resolution. It needed these things because it's Mizley and they _are_ that special. Before I knew it, the whole story was there, already written, alive and breathing in my head (that sounds weird), and so began a grueling, testing, _amazing_, year long extraction process. And that's exactly what it was, an extraction process. If you only knew! And now, almost three months after I finished it, I've officially finished it. HOLY MOLY GUACAMOLE!

This is a story I wish I could share with everyone and so I'm very, very happy to have been able to share it with you. I hope you liked it. No, that's not true. I hope you loved it and want to read it over and over again.


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